31 




°k'i' 

















































MEMOIRS. 


BY 

JOHN RICHARD BEST,'ESQ. 

AUTHOR OF “TRANSALPINE MEMOIRS.” 


“ Smoothing the raven-down 
“ Of darkness till it smiled.’’—Moon’s Coinut . 



LONDON: 

LONGMAN, REES, ORME, BROWNE AND GREEN 
AND RICHARD CRUTTWELL, BATH, 


1828 . 








































CONTENTS. 



PAGE. 

CHAPTER I. 

Necessary Explanations—Address to the Ladies 
—The Coupe—The Deserts of Lybia—A 
Fellow-Traveller—National prejudice—The 
Bishop of Chalons—Verdun—The Suicide— 
Metz—The Conducteur—The Vosgian Moun¬ 
tains—The Dream—The Country . 7—24- 


CHAPTER II. 

The Rhine—The Lock of Hair—The Dinner— 

German-English-An elegant Equipage— 

Baden and the Black Forest—A Sentimental 
Wanderer ... 25—43 




VI 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

CHAPTER III. 

Scenes in Germany—Rastadt—German Senti¬ 
mentalism— Carlsruhe Army of Baden— 

Drive to Stuttgard—An Allegorical Torrent 
—Crosses—An Irish Peasant—Stuttgard— 
Orange Trees—The Suabian Alps and the 
Danube—Ulm—The Protestant Cathedral 44—59 


CHAPTER IV. 

Bavarian Mail-coaches—A German’s preparation 
before travelling—Musical Postillions—Augs¬ 
burg—Devotion—Munich—A Professor in the 
University—Bavaria and Lombardy—Night— 
Morning—The frontier of Austria—Premature 
plans—Journey to Salzburg . 60—74 

CHAPTER V. 

Journey from Linz—The Fete-Dieu—Catholic 
Images—Statue of a Saint without a head—A 
Picture—Vienna—Vienna Police—The Prater 
—Popular Amusements—The Battle of Wa- 
gram—A Reverie . 75— 92 







CONTENTS. 


Vll 


PAGE. 

CHAPTER VI. 

Europe one Country—Austrian Freedom—A 
Handbill—Theatres—-Public Speaking—Ex- 
parte mode of Reasoning—Statue of Theseus 
—Divorce—Museum of Natural History 93—108 

CHAPTER VII. 

Napoleon II.—Baden—Smoking—Beds—Anec¬ 
dote relating thereunto—Evening—History of 
Giulio and Francesca . 109—130 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Departure from Vienna—Mad English—Prague 
—St. John Nepomucen—A Monastery—The 
“ Sentimental Wanderer’’—Evening Walks— 


Bohemian Mails-Caricatures-Toplitz- 

Music—Harpers—Interruption . 131—154 


CHAPTER IX. 

Dresden—Frederic Augustus—The Picture-Gal¬ 
lery—Anachronisms—Madonnas—Painting by 
-Murillo—Sweetness of the German Language 

-Tomb of Moreau-The “ Sentimental 

“ Wanderer.” . 155—170 






CONTENTS 


Vlll 


FACE. 

CHAPTER X. 

The King's Chapel—Party-Spirit—Scandalous 
manner of celebrating High Mass—Musicians 
—Languages—Excursions—Wilhelm von Tii- 
demann—Vogelschiitzen—-Character of the 
Germans—P. P. C. Visits . 171—192 

CHAPTER XL 

The Battle of Leipzig—Leipzig—The Book-Fair 
—Minerva—A Burial-ground—The Prairie— 
German Associations—The Rhine—A German 

Cicerone-“ Classical ” Associations-The 

“ Sentimental Wanderer ”-Cologne-The 

“Th ree Kings”—St. Ursula andher eleven thou¬ 
sand V irgin s— H ollaud—H aiti—A ntwerp-— 
Table d’Hotes Conversation—Conclusion 193—218 





PREFACE. 


A Person to whom I had been lately 
introduced by name, enquired if I was 
related to the Lincolnshire gentleman, 
who, about thirty years ago, had left the 
Established Church and embraced the 
Catholic faith. I answered by a move¬ 
ment of assent, and our conversation 
proceeded in the same friendly tone. 
May I hope that those who have favour¬ 
ably received the anonymous writer of 
“ Transalpine Memoirs,” will not with¬ 
draw their approbation now that they 
discover his relation to the obnoxious 


B 


2 


PREFACE. 


author of “ Four Years in France?”— 
that they will still be willing to entertain 
towards him the same friendly dispo¬ 
sitions, though they now know him by a 
name to which religious prejudice may 
have rendered them hostile; and that, 
whithersoever it may lead, they will 
acknowledge the merits of conscientious 
disinterestedness, and not allow the illi- 
berality of the politician to influence the 
decision of the literary judge : 

cur dextrce jungere dextram 

Non datur, ac veras audire et reddere voces? 

As to my first work, “ Transalpine 
“ Memoirs,” most of the reviewers who 
have noticed it, have done so with indul¬ 
gence and commendation : I beg them 
to accept my thanks. There are, how¬ 
ever, two heads of accusation against me: 
some have questioned my judgment in 
matters relating to the Fine Arts; and 
one—the Monthly Review—after show- 


PREFACE. 


3 


ing its ability to pierce an author’s in¬ 
cognito by abusing me, even me! (who 
had not been on English ground since 
my eleventh birth-day) as a moody 
Cockney, a twaddling John who had 
never before lost sight of the streets of 
London—proceeds to doubt whether, 
professing myself a Catholic, I in reality 
believe in any religious creed. If reli¬ 
gious belief announces itself by intole¬ 
rant, bigoted language, such as the 
writer in that Review indulges in, I 
certainly do not believe. With this 
answer, I should have dismissed the sub¬ 
ject; but as some English Catholics have 
often been inclined to doubt the ortho¬ 
doxy of my principles, I refer them to 
what I said in the preface to the work in 
question: where, professing myself a 
Catholic, I beg them to distinguish be¬ 
tween matters of doctrine, and tnatters 
of discipline ; and where, agreeing to the 


4 


PREFACE. 


former, I declare I do not consider my¬ 
self bound to approve every mistaken 
or corrupt practice affecting only the 
latter. The German Reviews praise me, 
because, “ though a Catholic, I am, by 
66 no means, a Papistsome of the 
English reviewers, to whom this distinc¬ 
tion is unknown, have said that, 66 though 
“ a Catholic, I am not a bigot.”* I thank 
them for admitting that the two cha¬ 
racters are not necessarily allied: let 
English Catholics do as much ; their 
religion does not stand in need of the 
paltry, despicable, imagined aid of 
bigotry. 

As to those who object to my opinions 
on subjects relating to the Fine Arts, in 
the language of Rousseau, “jeprie ces 
“ juges , si prompts a la censure , de con - 
“ siderer que ce quits disent la, je le 
6< sais tout aussi bien qu eux ; que jy ai 

* See the advertisement at the end of the volume. 


PREFACE. 


5 


“ probablement rejlechi plus long terns, et 
“ que, n ay ant nul interet ct leur en 
“ imposer, fai le droit d'exiger quits se 
“ donnent au nioins le terns de chercher 
“ en quoi je me trompe Though the 
cursory plan of the work prevented me 
from declaring the grounds of my criti¬ 
cism on St. Peter’s, and though I omitted 
to explain the difference of opinion which, 
in Italy, exists as to the merits of Michael 
Angelo, who, in England, is thought of 
with unqualified admiration ; yet I be¬ 
lieve I should be borne out in my obser¬ 
vations by any travelled, impartial artist. 
Having long basked in the brightest 
rays of the art which I had eagerly and 
assiduously studied, I may, in fact, be 
supposed to have been in some degree 
qualified to give an opinion upon it, and 
to venture out of the hackneyed lauda¬ 
tory track pursued by most tourists. 
Universal admiration, they well know, is 


6 


PREFACE. 


more easily bestowed than occasional 
blame. Some knowledge of the art, and 
a taste chastened by familiar acquaintance 
with its finest productions, are requisite 
to him who dares to discriminate. 

I trust, therefore, that any new opinion 
which I may give in the following pages 
on any work of the Fine Arts, will not 
be attributed to ignorant presumption. 

As this volume, also, contains the 
relation of a tour, I have wished, by the • 
title, to approximate it to “ Transalpine 
“ Memoirs.” Whatever may be its 
other “ descriptive” merits, I own that I 
announce it under a name which does 
not convey a very adequate idea of its 
contents: but some of my readers may 
still remember the Cisrhenane and 
Transrhenane Republics—called into 
momentary existence by the arms of 
revolutionary France. 

Bath, 8th April, 1828 . 


TRANSRIIENANE MEMOIRS 



CHAPTER I. 


Now there is nothing gives a man such spirits, 
Leavening his blood as Cayenne doth a curry, 

As going at full speed—no matter where its 
Direction be, so ’tis but in a hurry. 

And merely for the sake of its own merits: 

For the less cause there is for all this flurry. 

The greater is the pleasure in arriving 
At the great end of travel—which is driving. 

Don Juan. Canto X. 


I arrived here, at Metz, late last even¬ 
ing,—31st May, 1827. I intend to leave it 
early to-morrow morning, having dedicated 
one day to repose and sight-seeing. I have 
already paid my devoirs to all the lions of the 
place; I have whiled away two hours on a 





8 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


bench in the public walk, drawing caricatures 
of all the worthies who passed before me; but 
now time begins to hang heavy upon my 
hands, and I know not how to employ the 
remainder of the day. During my future 
journey, the same question, the same difficulty 
will, I fear, often arise. An idle visitor in a 
strange town, I shall frequently, as at present, 
find time too slow for my impatience: pen 
and paper will offer a resource, which I shall 
then, as at present, eagerly seize. 

To begin. Wherefore have I quitted Paris? 
“ The consciousness of present evils, and 
“ the forgetfulness of those which are absent, 
“ occasion inconstancy.’’ To inconstancy 
must, then, my roving spirit be attributed ?— 
not entirely, though I suspect that it might, 
in a great degree, be traced to that source. 
With the exception of a few months I have 
lived, since my eleventh birth-day, away from 
my native country: from personal observation, 
I am able to appreciate all that can be said for 
or against the French and the Italians; I am 
now anxious to become acquainted with the 
Germans. Though I have no curiosity on 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 9 

any given object—that sentiment has, I regret 
to say, been exhausted—yet I still retain a 
curiosity of a more extensive, of a more com¬ 
prehensive sort: I love the study of human 
nature ; it is man rather than his works that 
I desire to investigate. One reason more : 
an unoccupied man, much of my time is given 
to literature ; the acquisition of the German 
language will offer to me a new mine of in¬ 
struction and amusement. 

“ Vu d V Ambassade d’Autriche 

“ Bon pour Vienne ." 

Such is the latest inscription which I read on 
my much be-scribbled passport. But I cannot 
engage to give a regular, a systematic account 
of the country I am about to traverse. Writ¬ 
ing solely to pass away my “ hours of idleness,*' 
that which happens to be uppermost in my 
mind will always be first expressed. When I 
shall have completed my tour, I will read over 
the sentiments to which it will have given 
rise, and should I think my notes worthy of 
the perusal of the public, to the public will 
I submit them. 


10 


TRANSItHENANE MEMOIRS. 


All the incongruities and disparate subjects 
which may be brought together in my future 
book, however foreign they may be to .one 
another, will, therefore, be agreeable to the 
plan I have adopted ; for my only plan is— 
to confine myself to none : 


- “ while idleness weaves 

“ Her flowrets together, if Wisdom can see 
“ One bright drop or two that has fallen on 
the leaves 

“ From her fountain divine, ’tis sufficient for me.” 


It is at once evident that I myself shall be 
the hero of the following pages. I know not 
how to obviate the objection otherwise than 
by praying that I may meet with such adven¬ 
tures, such romantic dangers and hair-breadth 
escapes, as may contribute to render me a not 
uninteresting personage. Yet, after all, I 
shall only be the channel of communication 
between the reader and the subject of his 
study : and 


-“ if, perhaps, some gentler mind 

“ Which rather loves to praise than blame, 
“ Should in my page an interest find, 

“ And linger kindly on my name; 




TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


11 


“ Let it,—or, oh! if gentler still, 

“ By female lips my name be blest; 

“ Ah! where do all affections thrill 

“ So sweetly as in woman’s breast?”— 

1 

let it acknowledge the frankness with which 
I have thus far exposed, and shall hereafter 
continue to expose, my intentions, my thoughts, 
and my feelings. 

THE COUPE. 

The Coupe of a French diligence is roomy 
and easy, and, did the coach advance with 
greater speed, it would be, by no means, an 
unpleasant conveyance. But in France no 
one travels for what Madame de Stael calls the 
tristeplaisir of travelling ; and the tenants of a 
French stage-coach belong, in general, to the 
lower classes of society. There is something 
humiliating, not to say distressing, in being 
thus confounded with our inferiors : the sen¬ 
timent is absurd, but the vanity of our nature 
cannot, at first, overcome it. When the 
Emperor of China follows the plough, and 


VZ TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 

when Catholic Sovereigns wash the feet of 
poor pilgrims, I know little of the human 
heart if their Majesties do not find a subject 
of pride in their momentary condescension. 
“ Excellent,” exclaims the portly Alderman, 
when he tastes a cheap broth , and hypocriti¬ 
cally smacks his polluted lips, “ excellent 
“ food for the poor but in the midst of his 
Christian or political humiliation, both the 
monarch and the alderman is known and re¬ 
spected as such ; whereas, in my French 
stage-coach, ignotus Lybice deserta peragro. 

This mention of the deserts of Lybia is not 
so much out of place, so Irish, as might at 
first appear. If the country between Paris 
and Metz is not barren, it is to the full as 
uninteresting as it could be were that the 
case, and I see little to choose between a 
boundless view of sands and one of uninclosed 
corn-fields. Indeed, so open is this part of 
France, that one would suppose hedges were 
proscribed by law, and that 

“ Ne signare quidem ciut partire limite campum 

“ Fas crat 


TRANSRIIENANE MEMOIRS. 13 

There was with me, in the coupe , a young 
man—a clerk in the Prefecture of Metz. In 
the course of conversation, I almost succeeded 
in my endeavours to persuade him that the 
battle of Waterloo was not fought in the plains 
of Champagne, which we were then traversing! 
I had, at another time, been engaged in a dis¬ 
cussion with a Frenchman who asserted that 
Napoleon had undertaken his expedition to 
Moscow in order to reach a point of Russia 
from whence, owing to the shortness of the 
distance, he could, without difficulty, build a 
bridge by which to invade England! Most 
travellers would adduce this anecdote as an 
incontrovertible proof of the universal geogra¬ 
phical ignorance of the French nation ; but 
travellers, of all men, should not draw general 
conclusions from solitary examples. 

My companion in the coupe contested, 
moreover, the exactness of some facts, relating 
to England, which I thought myself qualified 
to advance. In order to establish my claims 
to his belief, I at length, after four and twenty 
hours, informed him that I was myself an 
Englishman. He stared widely; and, from 


14 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


that moment, I lost the little influence I had 
obtained over his mind : for he immediately 
attributed all I said to the blindness of national 
prejudice. National prejudice !—would that 
I were sensible to it! would that I were even 
more blinded by that glowing bandage of 
affection! would that, like so many others, 
from Don Quixote downwards, I could pass 
through the world challenging all I met to 
acknowledge the universal superiority of my 
Dulcinea del Toboso! But when, like Sancho 
Pan$a, I look at her with the unfascinated 
eyes of reason and investigation, like him I 
find her hands coarse and rough; and though 
I might not object to those glittering pearls 

a 

which her injudicious lover had attributed to 
her, being transformed into good, useful wheat, 
yet I regret to find that wheat so mixed with 
blighted and worthless grains, that it can with 
difficulty be separated from them. 

The coach was stopped by a dozen of the 
Garde Nationale —local militia—who, with 
banners flying, and to the sound of a drum 
and fife, preceded a shabby open carriage. It 
contained the religious and respectable looking 


TRANS R HEN A NE MEMOIRS. 


15 


figure of the Bishop of Chalons, who was 
going to administer the sacrament of Confir¬ 
mation to the children of a small village. As 
he alighted from his carriage and walked with 
mild and even evangelical demeanour towards 
the church, he was received with revolting 
levity by many of the by-standers. The im¬ 
prudent conduct of the French government 
and of a portion of the clergy has, I fear, 
done an almost irreparable injury to the cause 
of religion in France. 

We passed through Verdun. Oh! my 
poor countrymen who were imprisoned in this 
paltry place, how do I pity your lot! But if, 
as is asserted, your detention was a measure 
of reprisal, called for by an unwarrantable 
aggression, who shall blame the author of it ? 

The unpaid debts contracted by the English 
in this neighbourhood are said to have occa¬ 
sioned the ruin of many French families.— 
—Repress that slight sentiment of exulting 
revenge: it is unworthy of both you and me. 

The sight of Verdun aroused again my 
patriotic English feelings. So long as the 
mind broods indistinctly over unknown places 


16 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


of banishment, it is little able to appreciate 
the evil: but let it fix, even in imagination, 
on any one particular spot, and all the horrors 
of exile will at once overwhelm it. Whatever 
may be the inferiority of our own country to 
that to which we are banished—a supposition 
to which I am very far from acceding—I pity 
the man who first said ubi bene ibi patria. 

On crossing a small stream, a white object 
was perceived extended beside it on the grass 
at a short distance from the road: two or 
three persons were standing over it. We were 
told that it was the body of a young girl who 
had just put a criminal end to her unknown 
wretchedness. The coach passed heedless on. 

Metz, from whence I date this, is one of 
the strongest places in France. It stands at 
the confluence of the Moselle and the Seille, 
in the centre of an immense plain which can 
be inundated in eight and forty hours. Its 
usual garrison, in time of peace, amounts to 
ten thousand men. The number of its inha¬ 
bitants is about forty-five thousand. It is 
rather well built, but contains nothing to 
interest a stranger. 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. V? 

Reader! the evening has passed away while 
I have been writing for you : so far, I have 
accomplished my object. I have, moreover, 
conducted you over the ground I had traversed 
in my first stage. Henceforward let us travel 
on together;—thinking and feeling together, 
and together gazing upon the blooming flowers 
and the more unseemly weeds that may pre¬ 
sent themselves on our passage. 

Et vos , o lauri, carpam , et te, proximo myrte; 

Sic positcB quoniam suaves miscetis odores. 


THE CONDUCTEUR, 

Paley, in his Natural Theology, mentions, 
as one great proof of the existence of a Creator, 
the different coverings which are so appro¬ 
priately given to each species of living beings. 
“ Could chance, or any fortuitous circum- 
66 stances,” he exclaims in well-founded admi¬ 
ration, “have created feathers to the bird, 
“ scales to the fish, and hairs to the cattle ?” 
What would the divine have said, had he heard 
his whole train of argument overturned by the 

c 




18 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


conducteur of the diligence from Metz to 
Strasbourg, who, finding a short hair in the 
dish of meat before him, observed, with a most 
ludicrously grave countenance, “ le bon Dien 
“ ne devoit pas mettre de polls sur le dos des 
“ beteSy —God did wrong in putting hairs on 
“ the backs of oxen.” 

I was much interested in the character of 
this man. With that ignorance of all acquired 
knowledge usually found in those of his situa¬ 
tion, he had a clear, reasoning head, free from 
prejudice, and spoke on all subjects of a 
general and political interest—for such sub¬ 
jects are, in France, agitated by all classes of 
people—with a degree of truth and clear¬ 
sightedness which is seldom found in the 
conversation of his superiors. Mixed with 
this cool, investigating mind, he possessed a 
great fund of sensibility, which occasionally 
burst forth in an interesting manner. 

“No!” he exclaimed, taking part in the 
conversation, “ No, the general was old 
“ enough to die. Wherefore should he have * 
“desired to remain here more than sixty 
“ years? His children were grown up, and 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 19 

“ no longer wanted his support; his wife could 
“ no longer look upon him with her first 
“ affection. What would a delay of ten addi- 
“ tional years have availed him ? None should 
“ wish to exceed his age—sixty years. Ac- 
“ cording to his allowance, I myself have 
“ twenty years more to pass in the world : 
“ but were I not wanted, were not my ex- 
M isteilce useful, and very, very useful to my 
** seven young children—I would not wish to 
“ see another day. It is not that I am anxious 
“ to die; but wherefore should the poor man 
u desire to live? What pleasure have I upon 
u the earth ? A continued routine of labour, 
** without the most distant hope of ever better- 

" ing my situation.No, no ; a poor man 

“ ought not to pray for a long life.” 

The depth of feeling with which he said 
these words was affecting. 


THE VOSGIAN MOUNTAINS. 

“ There, gentlemen, are the Vosges,” he 
exclaimed, as we halted on the summit of a 

c 2 



20 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS* 


steep ascent. My eye followed the outline of 
the distant ridge. It is not very lofty; but 
great was the pleasure I felt at again behold¬ 
ing a really hilly country. Since leaving Italy, 
no where, except in the volcanic province of 
Auvergne, have I seen any I could call by 
that name. Neither the pretty hills of Eng¬ 
land, nor the monotonous fluctuations of the 
greater part of France—as smooth and un¬ 
broken as the ocean’s heavy waves after a 
storm—have been able to awaken within me 
those recollections and feelings which were 
aroused by the aspect of the Vosgian moun¬ 
tains. Jeannie Deans says, in the Heart of 
Midlothian, that, “ when she could no longer 
“ see the great hill near—she felt as though 
she had lost a friend.” 


THE DREAM. 

6t Those mountains of the Vosges,” said 
the conducteur , “ are, as you may perceive, 
<€ thickly studded with ruined castles, whose 
u formerly strong-built walls now lie crumbling 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


21 


<l in the hollow dales and dark shades of the 
“ vallies, or still totter on the time-worn 
“ summits of their barren rocks. Behold that 
“ sugar-loaf mountain that rises in front of 
“ the main ridge : its pinnacle is crowned by 
“ a few dismantled walls, which now scarce 
“ mark the situation and extent of what was, 
“ some centuries ago, one of the strongest 
“ manors of Lorraine. The deep ditch which 
“ then defended it, is now choaked up with 
“ rubbish and creeping-plants, which stretch 
“ across and conceal the fragments of its once 
“ proud battlements. Of the strong tower 
“ which formed its hold, nothing now remains 
“ but the heavy corner stones of its angles, 
“ which, piled one upon the other, rise high 
“ in the air, and seem to pierce into the bosom 
“ of that gray cloud that soars above. Observe 
€t how much narrower is the base of this un- 
“ steady pillar, if it may be so called, than its 
“ summit: and yet it still stands! while a 
“ verdant string of wall-flowers, suspended to 
“ its highest stone, is carried to and fro by 
“ the mountain wind, and blooms in apparent 
“ mockery of its ruined support! 


22 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


“ In that castle once lived the Count 
6t d’Abbo ; one of the most powerful of those 
<c feudal chiefs who daily disturbed the un- 
<c steady reign of their only nominal Sovereign. 
u By his wife, the Count had a numerous 
4i progeny: all of these were not, however, 
** equally loved by their parents. Their 
“ second son was unjustly loaded with their 
“ smothered hatred, which only wanted an 
opportunity to break forth and overwhelm 
u its innocent victim. 

“ One morning, the unsuspecting young 
“ man addressed his parents in the following 
“ terms: ‘ Sir Count and my Lady mother, I 
“ 4 dreamed, last night, a most extraordinary 
“ ‘ dream. It seemed to me that I were lord 
6C ‘ of a kingdom, and that, amongst an innu- 
4< ‘ merable throng of bare-footed suppliants, 
“ ‘ my father and mother kneeled before me!* 
“ This dream made a strong impression on 
Ci the Count. The unjust are ever suspicious; 
cc and he feared lest it were his waking wishes 
“ that had pressed the image upon the sleep- 
“ ing mind of his son. The Countess tried 
not to allay his distrust; and their son was, 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


23 


“ in some sort, banished from his father’s 
“ mansion. 

“ He took refuge with his uncle the Arch- 

“ bishop of.Hola, postillion! are you 

“ asleep ? If you continue at that pace, the 
“ gates of Strasbourg will be closed before 
“ we arrive!” 

Taking advantage of this self-interruption, 
I said, “ But, my good fellow, your story is 
“ even older than you would have us to sup* 
“ pose .”—“ Nay, he replied, listen to the 
“ rest; how he became a priest; how he was 

61 made Pope; how”.“ No, I’ve read it 

“ all in the Old Testament.”—“ Where?”— 
“ The story of Joseph and his brethren.” 

He evidently did not know to what I alluded. 
u A Christian, and not know the history of 
“ Joseph!” I exclaimed to myself. “ But,” 
I then argued, “ even according to the 

Christian religion, is an acquaintance with 
“ that beautiful story necessary to his salvation? 
“ Can he not fulfil the duties of a good Christ- 
“ ian, without having read that affecting portion 
“ of the Jewish history?” 




24 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


THE COUNTRY. 

The appearance of the country gradually 
improves. The villages are neater; the habi¬ 
tations of the poor are larger and more com¬ 
fortable; their features assume a more round 
and heavy cast; their patois approaches nearer 
and nearer to the German language; and a 
French order, accompanied by a German 
translation, is given us by the French police 
at the gate of Strasbourg. 


i ' '3 

\ " 

\ 




CHAPTER II. 


Ave Maria! blessed be the hour! 

The time, the clime, the spot, where I so oft 
Have felt that moment in its fullest power. 

Sink o’er the earth so beautiful and soft, 

While swung the deep bell in the distant tower, 

Or the faint dying day-hymn stole aloft. 

And not a breath crept through the rosy air. 

And vet the forest leaves seemed stirr’d with prayer. 

Don Juan. Canto III. 


Before me was the bridge of boats that 
crosses the Rhine. I was now about to quit 
France; to bid adieu to the country in which 
I had passed the greater part of my life. I 
cannot say that I was sorry : but, though the 
stream consents to leave the valley and follow 
its distant course, yet it first turns in gentle, 
loitering eddies, round the verdant nook in 
which it has risen from the earth, and which 




26 TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 

it is so soon condemned to abandon. Or, as 
Byron has it, 

“ On leaving e’en the most unpleasant people 

“ And places, one keeps looking at the steeple.” 

• The beautiful and justly-admired, though 
perhaps too heavy, steeple of Strasbourg was 
behind, and the position of the carriage alone 
prevented me from exemplifying the truth of 
the bard’s observation. And I must own that 
I was sensible to a momentary sinking of my 
feelings, when the wheels rolled off the soil of 
France. 

The country that here borders upon the 
Rhine is flat and little deserving of notice. 
But how majestically does the river flow 
through it! What a sweeping, smooth cur¬ 
rent of waters! Excepting the Rhone, which 
is far from being its equal, how petty, how 
insignificant do all other rivers appear, when 
memory recurs to them from the banks of this 
triumphant torrent! Though still in its in¬ 
fancy, though it has still to receive the many 
tributary streams that afterwards join it, yet 
how it already lords it over the surrounding 
country! On beholding most other fivers, 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS# ^7 

we are impressed with the sentiment that they 
are created for the benefit of the country 
through which they flow; whereas the shores 
of the Rhine seem to be perfectly dependent 
on the stream, and to be placed near it solely 
to observe its benevolent, but domineering 
passage# 


THE LOCK OF HAIR. 

“ Here is my farewell gift, 55 she said to me 
on the evening before I quitted Paris: “ it 
ct was given by Napoleon himself, whilst at 

€t St. Helena, to my friend Colonel-. The 

4t celebrated Baron Denon, to whom I gave a 
“ few hairs of the same lock, wore them in a 

“ medallion to the hour of his death, in testi- 

% 

“ mony of his well-known affection towards the 
“ ex-emperor.” Thankfully did I receive 
the present: I opened the paper; my hand 
trembled : what a gift! what a relic! 

Napoleon! what are the sentiments thou 
wouldst think necessary to constitute a worthy 
possessor of this lock of thy hair ? I cannot 



28 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


look upon it with the blind admiration of 
many, of many to whom thou wert the day- 
star, nay > the very god himself of glory. I 
cannot water it with the warm tear of affection 
which many who have been honoured with thy 
friendship, and have been able to appreciate 
thy great qualities, would shed over this pre¬ 
cious memorial wrested from thy island-tomb. 
With idle curiosity, not even the most insig¬ 
nificant mind can behold it. No ; thou hast 
banished indifference from the world in which 
thou hast been known : admiration, affection, - 
or hatred may be aroused in the bosom of 
him who looks upon these hairs, but with 
indifference they will never be beheld ! 

Did these hairs still retain the bright hue 
they wore in thy youth, they might, perhaps, 
awaken more impetuous feelings than they 
now call forth : for now they are tinged with 
the silvery gray of age ; they confer upon 
thee a character different from that in which 
our minds are wont to behold thee. It is 
not now the triumphant chieftain, the mighty 
lord of the most powerful empire that ever 
awed the civilized world, who presents himself 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


€9 


to our imaginations :—no! it is the fallen sol¬ 
dier, it is the fallen monarch, who is brought 
before us. It is no longer the warrior, strong 
in the pride of youth and glory, threatening 
terrified and crouching kings with his dis¬ 
pleasure, and avenging and pardoning the 
treacherous actions of his enemies ;—it is no 
longer Napoleon, Emperor of France, whom 
these gray hairs call up before our minds:— 
no ! it is Napoleon, conquered by the united 
efforts of persevering Europe ; it is Napoleon, 
deprived of his power, deprived of his well- 
earned trophies, deprived of the company of 
his only son, betrayed, exiled, and imprisoned; 
—it is Napoleon, confined on a barren rock, 
in the midst of a distant ocean, sinking under 
the weight of years, of illness, and of sorrow; 
—it is Napoleon, still the object of anxious 
dread, of despairing hope, and of faithful 
affection,—himself advancing towards the 
grave, without one ray of comfort to brighten 
the dreary prospect, while age, stealing on 
with its icy touch, and sorrow aggravated by 
despair, bleach the falling hairs of his fine 


so 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


forehead, and give him a more venerable, a 
more holy aspect! 

Napoleon! it is under such an aspect that, 
on beholding the gray, silvery hairs mixed in 
this lock, thy image presents itself to me, and 
it is under such an aspect that I most love 
to consider thee;—grander and more imposing 
when chained to thy solitary island rock, than 
when heading thy victcrious armies and sur¬ 
rounded by the pomp of empires ;—more 
proudly entombed in the bosom of the ocean 
than thou couldst have been in the marble 
domes of thy capital. Yes, Napoleon! the 
inaccessible rock of St. Helena forms the 
grandest page of thy history—an imposing 
monument, reared by the fears of Europe, to 
the upstart, to the conquered, to the still- 
dreaded Emperor! 

Deem not, then, that thou art fallen into 
unworthy hands, thou precious lock ! Deem 
not that thou art dishonoured by being trans¬ 
ferred into the possession of a humble 
foreigner—by accompanying him in his wan¬ 
derings over that world, which he of whom 


TRANSRIIENANE MEMOIRS. 


31 


thou art a relic, did once almost call his own. 
Which of those kings, amongst whom it was 
Ills fatal ambition to seat himself, which of 
them will leave a memorial thus prized after 
his death by one who had never beheld him 
living ? Even thy present degradation is 
honourable; and thus mayest thou with just 
pride again pass over this majestic Rhine, 
which so often opposed to thee its waters in 
vain, and those kingdoms which formerly arose 
or disappeared at thy wearer’s mighty nod;— 
and, thus more truly triumphant, again pass 
over those scenes of carnage and of glory, 
those fields of Wagram, of Dresden, of Leip¬ 
zig, and of Waterloo, which his success or his 
misfortunes have for ever illustrated! 

Object not, then, Napoleon, to this lock of 
thy hair being thus enclosed in a travelling 
trunk, and thus rudely transported from coach 
to coach, from inn to inn, and from kingdom 
to kingdom ; but see proofs of thy triumph 
in thy fall itself, and glory in the inappre- 
ciating words of thy national living poet: 

“ Une He £ a regu sans couronne et sans vie 

“ Toi qu’un empire immense eut peine a contenir; 


32 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS, 


u Sous la tombe , ou seteint ton royal avenir r 
“ Descend avee toi seul toute une dynastie. 

“ Et le pecheur le soir s'y repose en chemin ; 

“ Reprenant ses filets qu avee peine il souleve , 
“ // s'eloigne a pas lents , foule ta cendre , rere 

“ 565 travaux du lendemain 


THE DINNER. 

These thoughts on Napoleon had been oc¬ 
casioned by the sight of the Rhine and of the 
German frontier custom-house at Kehl, before 
which I now drove without being questioned 
as to the contents of my trunk :—this was an 
unusual degree of forbearance on the part of 
the officers. I stopped at the clean, regularly- 
built town of Rastadt—overlooked by the 
handsome Grand Ducal palace. I consented 
to dine at the table d'hotes at one o’clock:— 
this, I am told, is the usual dinner-hour 
throughout Germany. I must now mention 
a few peculiarities which I observed. 

A cloth was laid at one end of a long table, 
beside which three guests placed themselves. 
After helping us to soup, I was surprised to 



TRANSRIIENANE MEMOIRS. 


33 


see the master of the inn seat himself beside 
my opposite neighbour, and his daughter, a 
blooming, pretty looking lass, place herself on 
the chair below me. This, it seems, is the 
custom : it is, at least, agreeable to the original 
meaning of the phrase table cThotes , and the 
whole of what I now beheld for the first time, 
was a humble, but an exact copy of the forms 
of such a German meal. Immediately after 
the soup, followed the bouillie —boiled beef— 
with which currant-jelly and vegetables were 
eaten: in France, vegetables always follow 
the meat in an almost separate course. The 
fish was brought neither at the beginning as 
in England, nor at the end as in France, but 
seemed a sort of half-way break. I had before 
witnessed another innovation still more extra¬ 
ordinary :—with an entree of wild boar, they 
eat a fried omelet! My expression of sur¬ 
prise was answered by the assurance that the 
Germans mixed every sort of food together. 
Perhaps in this case, also, they may excuse 
themselves by alleging, " Nos Germani 
“ quantitdtem non curamus” 

D 


34 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


At the head of the table sat a lieutenant in 
the service of the Grand Duke of Baden, 
who, not wishing to lose the sauce of his meat, 
cut out small square pieces of bread, which, 
being carefully fixed at the end of his fork, 
did the office of a sponge in collecting the 
liquid gravy. Do I here see a sample of 
polished German manners ? 

Silver forks, so common and general in 
France, are already replaced by steel, which— 
except in the first private houses—are alone 
used in the country I am about to visit. 

Although, as a drinker of port would de¬ 
clare, they are as weak as water, yet the small 
white wines of this neighbourhood are very 
pleasant, and must be grateful in hot weather. 
They are, comparatively, much dearer than 
the this ordinaires of France. 


GERMAN-ENGLISH. 

With other notices in the inn at Rastadt, 
was a German handbill which had been thus 
translated into English :— 


TRANSIIHENANE MEMOIRS. 


35 


“ Advice of an Hotel. 

“ The underwritten has the honour of in- 
“ forming the public that he has made the 
“ acquisition of the hotel to the Savage, well 
“ situated in the middle of this city. He 
“ shall endeavour to do all duties which gen- 
“ tlemen travellers can justly expect; and 
“ invites them to please to convince themselves 
‘* of it by their kind lodgings at his house. 

“ Basil July 1825. 

“ Jr. Singisem, 

“ Before the tenant of the hotel to the 
Stock in this city.” 


AN ELEGANT EQUIPAGE. 

All the Baden coaches had already left 
Rastadt ; I, therefore, accepted the inn¬ 
keeper’s offer to procure me a petite voiture 
—little carriage, with one horse, for myself. 
On returning from a stroll through the town, 
I found my trunk placed in a long four- 
wheeled waggon, the narrow body of which 

d 2 


36 


TRA^SRHENANE MEMOIRS; 


was formed of rough poles and basket work: 
to either side was fastened the end of a bench. 
A chair was brought out, and, from it, I lept 
into my “ little carriage”—greatly amused by 
the seriousness with which the by-standers, to 
whom the sort of vehicle was no novelty, 
looked on. The horse, however, was not a 
bad one ; and its harness was neater than any 
I had seen in French diligences: but, before 
we had advanced far, I discovered that instead 
of running between two shafts as I had sup¬ 
posed, its off side only was flanked by the 
solitary pole of the waggon:——this economical 
method is often practised in Germany. I 
endeavoured to enter into conversation with 
the peasant who drove the horse: he answered 
me in German. “ Now, indeed, I am in for 
“ it! Alone, amidst a foreign people, unable 
“ to speak a word of their language. 0 

Such were my reflections ; but I was too 
much occupied by the novelty of the situation 
to give way to them. 


TIIANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


37 


BADEN AND THE BLACK FOREST. 

Passing before a small tavern—in which 
crowds of country people were waltzing to the 
music of a band which would have been ad¬ 
mired in the most polished circles of other 
countries—I wandered by the side of the 
shallow, rippling stream that winds between 
the town and the public gardens. The latter 
are laid out in irregular walks, which stretch 
prettily up the side of the hill. In the center 
is a large building containing reading, coffee, 
and gambling rooms. A few people were 
standing round the table for roulette , but 
scarcely any took part in the play. The game 
had, however, one constant votary: at each 
turn, he threw down a few pieces of silver,— 
at each turn, they were drawn aside by the 
sequestrating rake of the banker. The coun¬ 
tenance of the gambler grew more and more 
dark: his dress proved him to be a humble 
inhabitant of the place, who could ill afford 
the loss he was incurring : he hesitated, and 
seemed inclined to retire. Again he threvy 


38 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS 


down his stake; again it was seized by the 
banker. He now began to be visibly agitated: 
the eyes of the company were fixed upon him : 
he bit his lip, and, with a convulsive quickness 
of movement, again hazarded a few pieces. 
The roulette went round : he won : his pre¬ 
vious losses were now made up to him : he 
will now surely withdraw ? What, when for¬ 
tune begins to favour him ? No ! he confi- 
fidently replaces his money on the same 
numbers. I retired in disgust. 

Baden occupies the bottom of a narrow 
valley. On three sides rise the bold, fir- 
covered rock of the Black Forest. At some 
distance, on one of the lofty, sugar-loaf, 
wooded pinnacles, I beheld the irregular walls 
of an ancient castle, whose ruined towers 
seemed almost to float amongst the clouds 
that hung over and around them. A narrow 
road, and frequent guide-posts, pointed out 
the way to “ Le vieux Chateau .” 

By this broken path I rose higher and 
higher on the mountain, winding under a 
magnificent, but often interrupted, forest arch. 
In a short time nothing was visible but the 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 39 

fine trees that towered around, and the lowly 
underwood, whose light spring leaves were 
pleasingly contrasted with the black shades of 
the ever-dismal pine,— 

“ Dark tree, still sad when other’s grief is fled, 

“ The only constant mourner o’er the dead!” 

The heavy showers of rain which had fallen 
a few hours before had refreshed the sultry 
air, and the clear drop of water which still 
glistened on the point of each trembling leaf, 
seemed to have conveyed new life to every 
plant of the forest. The mists hung over the 
vallies beneath, and the shaggy clouds, which 
still lingered in the lower atmosphere, clung, 
in thick folds, to the lofty sides of the drop¬ 
ping rocks. The faintly-swelling music of 
the village band, and the softened bark of the 
distant dogs, were the only sounds which arose 
from the neat town below : but near me, the 
air was all alive. I did not hear the loved 
Italian hum of 

“ The shrill cicala—people of the pine 
but all the trees around sent forth the music 
of innumerable birds, rejoiced by the late 
change of temperature, and anxious to sing 



40 


TRANSRIIENANE MEMOIRS. 


out their happiness, while yet the sun remained 
above the horizon. The deeper notes of the 
cuckoo broke, at times, from beyond the cloud 
that canopied the trees above, and supplied 
the harmony that was wanting in the too 
shrill accents of the lesser birds. Every thing 
was soft and gentle ; every thing breathed of 
pure and quiet happiness. From a projecting 
angle the waters of the Rhine were seen wind¬ 
ing through their distant, silent plain, which, 
beyond its lordly stream, was bounded by the 
gray Vosgian mountains. 

At length I approached the brow of the 
hill crowned by the castle which had attracted 
my notice from the gardens below, though 
it was at this place almost completely veiled 
by the surrounding wood of firs, of oaks, and 
of liere-majestic beech trees. Other sounds 
than those which had hitherto delighted me, 
now suddenly proceeded from its partially- 
concealed ruins. The favourite air of the 
“ Dame Blanche ”— 

9 

“ D ici voyez ce beau domaine 

“ Dont les crenaux touchent le del ”_ 

was partly sung, and partly whistled, in a 


TRANSRIIEN ANE MEMOIRS. 


41 


manner which plainly showed that the unseen 
minstrel meant to apply them to the ruins 
that surrounded him. I stopped to listen. 
Many well-known airs were repeated in the 
same unsettled style, and the musician seemed 
to delight in thus varying the manner of his 
performance—making those parts which he 
whistled, in some sort, an accompaniment to 
the song. By thus carelessly repeating many 
light Italian and French romances, he led me 
to conclude that it was on the musing solitude 
of some lively French visiter of the waters of 
Baden that I was about to intrude ; and I was 
on the point of advancing forward, when a 
well-known English tune was commenced, in 
a tone of deeper feeling than I had traced in 
any of the other airs. On hearing the un¬ 
seen dreamer slowly whistle the first couplet, 
I immediately concluded that he was an 
Englishman—for I knew that the tune he 
was repeating had not yet been adopted by 
foreigners : what then w\as my surprise 
when, in a slow and thoughtful manner, he 
sung the following translation of the second 
verse ? 



42 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


De Vexile lajoie meme est toujours am ere ; 

C'eti €7i vain que les plaisirs, les palais Vappellent; 

. Quelque humble quit soil, c est le toit de s on pere 

Qui attire ses pensees—il ne vit plus quen elles / 

With curious levity he suddenly abandoned 
the musing, melancholy tone to which he had 
given way, and gaily repeated a light air of 
the new opera of “ Marie” 

I now pushed forward, determined to 
discover who this sentimental, cosmopolite 
dreamer might be—for I own that he had 
awakened no small degree of interest within 
me. I passed under the low portals, and 
traversing the grass-grown courts of the ruined 
castle, clambered to the top of the highest 
remaining turret. The view from hence was 
delightful; the position of the castle is most 
commanding. The ridges and the vales of 
the thickly-wooded chain of mountains rose 
and sunk on every side, and a rich plain 
extended far on the right and on the left. 
The sun had just gone down in front, and 
had left the purple clouds tinged with a beau¬ 
tiful light the shades of which were richly 
varied as they floated past on high. The 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


43 


scenery was, in fact, fully calculated to inspire 
that thoughtful, melancholy, and, at the same 
time, contented state of mind which seemed 
to have fastened on the unseen being to whom 
I had so long listened. But him, whomsoever 
he might be, I was unable to join. The only 
person I saw from the top of the ruined 
turret, was a very young man, whose nation I 
could not determine, and who, rising slowly 
from the stone on which he had been sitting, 
took his watch from his waistcoat pocket, drew 
together and gently pressed to his lips a few 
long, light hairs, which appeared to be tied 
to its ring, and then, leaping from fragment 
to fragment, disappeared in the hollow path 
of the forest. 


CHAPTER III. 


But in a higher niche, alone, but crown’d, 

The Virgin Mother of the God-born child. 

With her son in her blessed arms, looked round, 

Spared by some chance when all around was spoiled; 
She made the earth below seem holy ground. 

This may be superstition, weak or wild, 

But even the faintest relics of a shrine 
Of any worship wake some thoughts divine. 

Don Juan. Canto XIII, 


When I was sitting down to breakfast, 
this morning, I was startled by a loud rap at 
the door, and a tall, stately lady walked into 
my room. She addressed me in a volley of 
German; I interrupted her in a no less 
copious strain of French : she did not under¬ 
stand the language, and we gazed in silence 
at each other. At length, I called a waiter 
to be our interpreter. “ Madame, or Made- 
“ moiselle, he did not know which, was, like 




TRANSRIIENANE MEMOIRS. 


45 


* * myself, anxious to proceed to Carlsruhe, and 
“ desired to know if I would pay half the ex- 
“ pense of a carriage ?” There were no 
public conveyances, and I readily assented to 
her proposal. In a couple of hours we set 
off in a neat open calash, drawn by two good 
horses. 

My companion was of “ a certain age,” but 
could still boast of fine features and lively 
black eyes. Our attempts to establish a con¬ 
versation were, however, truly ludicrous and 
entertaining. Each endeavour which each 
one made in his own language, always termi¬ 
nated in a burst of laughter—the only intel¬ 
ligible mode of communication between us. 
But as I, every now and then, hazarded a 
word which I knew to be common to both the 
English and the German languages, the lady 
asserted that it was only from spite that I 
refused to talk, and, persuaded that my igno¬ 
rance was feigned, she was often inclined to 
be seriously displeased. 

She called to the Kutscher to stop at an 
alehouse. An immense glass tankard of 
beer was brought out: she insisted upon my 


46 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


tasting it—and upon my tasting it first; then, 
having taken a long draught herself, she gave 
the remainder to the coachman, whom I 
understood to say “ that, although he had, 
«that instant, taken a glass of wine, there 
“ could be no harm in the mixture.” Was 
not this one of those scenes which our ima¬ 
ginations always place in Germany ? 

We stopped to dine at Rastadt. The looks 
of the lady became more animated : she shook 
her knife at me, when I did not understand 
her words; and, at length, found sufficient 
French to tell me that she thought me a 
“jolt gargon:” then, taking an immense 
gold ring from her finger, she desired to ex^ 
change it with the one I myself w r ore. 
“ What! after an acquaintance of an hour and 
“ a half—during which neither understands 
“ the language of the other—are proposals of 
“ this nature to be expected ? Is this the 
“ German sentimentalism, of which we hear 
“so much?” Thus I reasoned in my own 
mind ; while, in most polished and verbose 
French, I declined the lady’s offer. 

Her curiosity and depit at not under- 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


47 


standing what was said were most remarkably 
ludicrous, when contrasted with the loquacious 
politeness, and affected earnestness, with which 
it was spoken. During the remainder of the 
journey, she was evidently uncomfortable and 
embarrassed: but a second glass of beer by 
the road-side rather restored her equilibrium; 
and at the gate of Carlsruhe, when a police- 
officer enquired, my name, she replied with 
a laugh, “ that I was a Frenchman who could 
“ neither understand nor be understood.” 

For my own part, I do not see that I have 
any cause to lament my ignorance of the lan¬ 
guage. Two days are not yet passed since I 
, left the territory of France, and, before that 
time, I had never looked into a German book. 


CARLSRUHE. 

Carlsruhe is a most regularly-built town. 
All its streets begin at the great square, in 
front of the handsome ducal palace, and 
stretch, in a straight line, to the walls which 
enclose the semicircle through which they 




48 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


pass. The other half of that circle is occupied 
by an extensive park for the chase of the 
Sovereign. All the streets of the town are 
wide ; in all of them are side pavements—so 
seldom found in continental cities; and did 
the houses rise to twice their present height, 
Carlsruhe would be a most magnificent town. 

I am told that the Duke of Baden keeps a 
standing army of fifteen thousand men. 
Being sovereign of a frontier state, he pro¬ 
bably thinks it prudent to maintain a force 
capable of resisting any sudden irruption of 
the French, and to inure his subjects to the 
fatigues of a military life;—for, with this 
standing army, few of them can escape learn¬ 
ing their manual exercise ; fifteen thousand 
men form a great part of the effective popu¬ 
lation of his dominions. 


DRIVE TO STUTTGARD. 

“ What,” I enquired of the innkeeper, 
“ is become of the lady who travelled here 
“ with me?” * She has proceeded onwards; 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


49 


* but she seems not to be grande chose . 9 “ I 
“ am glad you think so, for I should be sorry 
“ did she offer a true specimen of the manners 
“ of her countrywomen.” 

The lower part of the ridge of hills on 
which grows the Black Forest, separates the 
territory of Carlsruhe from that of Stuttgard. 
The road between these two places presents 
nothing extraordinary. The general appear¬ 
ance of the country is more pleasing than that 
on the French bank of the Rhine ; the roads 
are narrow, but in better repair; the land is 
cultivated with more care and neatness. 

During several miles, I followed the line 
of a stream the whole surface of which was 
covered by small loose pieces of fire-wood, 
which, after they had been cut up and pre¬ 
pared in the mountains, had been cast upon 
the descending torrent, which thus, without 
occasioning any trouble or expense, carried 
them to their distant destination. Such, I am 
informed, is the common practice in Germany; 
and severe penalties are incurred by those 
who, if I may thus express myself, attack these 
unprotected flotillas. “ Un revear comme 

E 


50 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


“ mol as Rousseau says of himself, could 
not but see some analogy between these pieces 
of wood and the human state of mankind :— 
a noble plant, created and reared in the 
“ higher places,” committed pure and light 
to the current of the lower world, which gra¬ 
dually soaks deeper and deeper into its most 
inward core, checking the freedom and buoy¬ 
ancy of its course, so that the longer is its 
career, the more heavy and slow becomes its 
progress, and the more is it rendered unfit 
for that end to which it was, from the first, 
destined, and to attain which it was committed 
to the boisterous, hurrying torrent. 

The crosses which rose here and there by 
the road-side have now disappeared. In the 
eastern part of France, through which I have 
just passed, their number becomes greater 
towards the frontier. In the states of the 
Duke of Baden, they are also very frequent: 
but the greater part .of the population of 
Wurtemberg is Protestant. This custom of 
erecting crosses is, perhaps, in some places, 
carried too far; but, on the whole, I like it. 
It is impossible but that the sight of that 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


51 


symbol should produce some effect, however 
slight, upon even the most unthinking mind: 
and that effect would be more often produced, 
were the crosses alone erected—without the 
revolting, ill-executed figure, which is fre¬ 
quently attached to them. I have heard 
Protestants regret that this symbol was not 
more respected by those of their religion. It 
is generally found on the summit of their 

i churches—true ; but the Catholic custom of 

signing one’s self with the sign of the cross 
was too beautiful, too eloquent, too feeling to 
be abandoned : it ought to have remained a 
mark of recognition to all those who believe 




in Him who died upon it. A Catholic Eng¬ 
lishman related to me that a poor Irish 
labourer once called upon him in England: 
my friend told him that he was, like himself, 
a Catholic : “ Oh! you all say so,” the pea¬ 
sant distrustfully replied: the Englishman 
made the sign of the cross on his breast: 
“ now, indeed, I know that you *re a true 
“ one.” 








52 


TRANSRI1ENANE MEMOIRS* 


STUTTGARD. 


I must not pass over this town in silence, 
though little can be said of it. Obliged to 
remain here one day, I feel, to their utmost 
extent, all the horrors of that worst of mala¬ 
dies—ennui. The German grammar and 
dictionary, Worterbuch —Wordbook, as they 
expressively name it—do not offer a very 
interesting resource ; and my state of mind 
is such that I am afraid of resorting to my 
usual time-killer, lest, in the present instance, 
my malady should prove infectious, and I 
should transfer too great a portion of it to you, 
gentle reader! I had, indeed, almost deter¬ 
mined to inflict upon you a lengthened dis¬ 
cussion on the nature and properties of 
orange-trees : for after I had long lounged 
through the gardens of the handsome royal 
palace, studied the physiognomy of every 
solemn swan—pity they had not been geese! 
—that glided on the surface of the clear water 
contained in the basins, and analysed the 
hues of all the gold fishes that swam, not less 





TIIANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


53 


solemnly, beneath them,— after I had thus 
dwelt upon all the animal beauties of the 
garden, I disconsolately turned to the vege¬ 
table wonders it contained. 

We are told of the astonishment, surprise, 
and admiration, with which the natives of the 
South first witness a fall of snow,—and good 
cause have they for that surprise, as I myself, 
who had never seen the phenomenon till last 
January, can testify. But even that which is 
perfectly new to us, does not astonish us so 
much as a great and unlooked-for change in 
that which we have ever known under a fixed 
and unvaried aspect. The sudden appearance 
in the heavens of another sun, would not sur¬ 
prise an Englishman more than to see that 
one to which he had been accustomed from 
his infancy—excepting on cloudy days, “ three 
“ parts of every year”—unexpectedly shed 
forth a bright emerald hue. 

It was thus that I pictured to myself the 
astonishment with which one who had been 
ever used to wander under the free, far- 
spreading branches of his native orange-groves* 


54 * 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


would first look upon the cramped, mop¬ 
headed plants that rose from the square, green- 
painted boxes around me. I doubted whether 
he would even recognise the orange-tree in 
the pitiful-looking shrub before him ! What 
could have so changed it from the happy, 
joy-awakening tree of his own sunny vallies ? 
Never would he suppose that its ungraceful 
form was the work of a studious pair of shears, 
and that it was a careful course of unabated 
clipping which alone deprived it of those 
irregular branches which it might otherwise 
put forth in diminished, but still pleasing, 
vigour ! But were he told that it was to the 
wish of the people, to the taste of the gar¬ 
dener, that he must attribute the metamor¬ 
phosis, his perplexed imagination would lead 
him to admire that ingenuity which seemed 
able to alter the very nature of all northern 
orange-trees, and he would exclaim with the 
poet adeo In leneris conmescere multum est! 


TRANSllHENANE MEMOIRS. 


THE SUABIAN ALPS AND THE 
DANUBE. 

The Suabian Alps which, running from the 
north-west to the south-east, give to the 
Danube its eastern direction, are pretty. But 
he who is acquainted with the Alps, can be 
astonished by the height of few other European 
mountains : thus Chateaubriand remarks that 
one who has visited the gigantic rivers of North 
America carries back but a very small degree 
of admiration for those which water our own 
less extensive continent. I have not seen the 
rivers of America, and it was with a strong, 
but indefinite, sentiment of respect that I 
looked down upon the winding course of the 
Danube. The waters of the Po and of the 
Tiber are, in themselves, insignificant, when 
compared to those of the Rhine and the 
Danube. The deeds of past ages have con¬ 
ferred imperishable glory upon them ; but 
though the voice of triumphant fame has been 
more constant to their banks, the records it 
attaches to the Danube and to the Rhine are 




56 TRANSltHENANE MEMOIRS. 

dear to the historian, and acquire, perhaps, an 
additional charm from the greater obscurity 
in which they are enveloped. The sun is not 
a more interesting object to the Persian who 
basks in its uninterrupted rays, than to the 
Icelander who can only occasionally observe 
its faintly-glimmering light. 

As I have chosen to make the reader of 
these pages the confidant of those sentiments 
to which my tour may give rise, I must own 
that a certain feeling of pride came over me 
on beholding the waters of the Danube : that 
I feel, in some sort, raised in my own estima* 
tion since I have looked upon the Rhine and 
the Danube. Now, indeed, I begin to think 
myself to have some claim to the title of an 
European traveller! nay more,—for I have 
walked on the banks of a stream which flows 
beyond the boundaries of civilized Europe. 


ULM. 


This is an ancient and irregularly built 
town. Little known in former days, it is now 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS, 5J 

pointed out as one of the proud land-marks 
of Napoleon’s genius. Here General Mack, 
at the head of thirty thousand Austrians, 
allowed himself to be surrounded, and, with¬ 
out attempting a vain resistance, was com¬ 
pelled to surrender to the fortune of the 
Emperor of France. 

The fa$ade of the Protestant cathedral is 
of a fine gothic architecture. I wished to 
see the interior of the church, and walked 
round to all its doors : I found them all shut. 
The rain was falling in torrents, and J hope 
I may be excused if the exclamation *• D—mn 
“ these Protestants !” did chance to escape 
from my disappointed lips. But I do assure 
the Protestant reader that it was uttered 
without any feeling of ill-will ; that it broke 
forth in a moment of unthinking peevishness; 
—for reflection would have told me that my 
curses were superfluous. 

Critic, forbear! allow me, also, to joke on 
your idea of the Catholic faith ; and detach 
not this sentence from that which follows. 
I concluded the last paragraph in the spirit of 
that belief which Protestants attribute to us. 



58 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


But the Catholic Church only asserts that 
contradictions cannot be equally true; and 
that, believing in its own doctrine, it is, of 
necessity, compelled to consider all other doc¬ 
trines false. Nor does it pretend to determine 
what will be the future state of those who 
unintentionally follow false doctrines: but, 
believing that one particular doctrine has been 
revealed, it cannot recognise in any the right 
to differ from it :—those who do differ from 
it, do so at their own peril. One would sup¬ 
pose that reason and common sense forced 
this belief upon the followers of every possible 
creed. But no ;—a sort of Christian poly¬ 
theism is now the fashionable doctrine of 
the day. 

At length a smiling young portress —with a 
smiling German greeting which I did not 
understand, but which the lively, contented 
tone of voice rendered pleasing and acceptable 
*—opened a side door, and ushered me into the 
interior of the building which had given rise 
to the preceding controversial remarks. It 
being Saturday, the aisles felt proportionally 
damp and cold:—for as Protestant churches 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


59 


are only opened on Sundays, a short, thermo- 
metrical calculation will always tell how many 
days have elapsed since a supply of fresh air 
was last admitted. The inside of the building 
presented nothing extraordinary. Its walls 
are decorated with tomb-stones surmounted 
by a truly German profusion of armorial bear¬ 
ings. Several of these monuments are inscribed 
“ palri patrice” of the ancient Republic of 
Ulm. We smile on perceiving this inscription 
in a little town on the banks of the Danube, 
though we venerate it in the villages on the 
shores of the Mediterranean. Is this local 
distinction just and equitable ? 

Near the altar of the Church is a gilt bass- 
relief head of Luther. One would suppose 
that the good people of the town proportioned 
their admiration of this “ Reformer’s” doc¬ 
trine to the quantity of fat on his cheeks;— 
for in its massiveness, the artist had completely 
buried the expression of his other features. 

Reader! if your mind begins to frame to 
itself a characteristic picture of Germany, the 
object of these unconnected remarks is fulfilled. 
Meanwhile, we hasten towards V ienna. 


CHAPTER IV. 


We’ll talk of that anon—’Tis sweet to hear 
At midnight, on the blue and moon-lit deep, 

The song and oar of Adria’s gondolier. 

By distance mellowed, o’er the water’s sweep; 
’Tis sweet to see the evening star appear; 

’Tis sweet to listen as the night winds creep 
From leaf to leaf; ’tis sweet to view on high 
The rainbow, based on ocean, span the sky. 

Don Juan. Canto 1\ 


At length I have been able to meet with 
a German stage-coach. So little intercourse 
is there between the different countries, that, 
on this high road through Germany, the 
public conveyances—that is, the mails—only 
pass twice or thrice a week; and as the time 
of my arrival in the several towns has never 
chanced to tally with that of their departure, 
I have been compelled to seek voiturier’s 
carriages. The latter are, however, easily 




Cl 


■ TRANSRIIENANE MEMOIRS. 

met with, and are somewhat cheaper than the 
stage coaches. The post-horses, as well as 
the cart-horses, of this country are very much 
better than those of France : of the carriage- 
horses I am unable to speak ; for neither in 
the capital of Baden, nor in that of Wur- 
temberg, have I seen a single private equipage! 

The mail-coaches are, by no means, bad. 
Their structure is not so large as that of the 
French diligences , and is more neat: they are, 
however, heavily built. They are drawn by 
four horses, the harness of which is much 
better than that of the French post-horses :— 
it is unnecessary to say that the whole turn 
eut is, in every respect, very inferior to a 
common English stage-coach. Nor do I at 
all allude to the unrivalled rapidity of English 
travelling, in saying that the German mails 
do not get over the ground as quickly as the 
French diligences . But time seems to be but 
of little import to the Germans. Their com¬ 
merce is not such as to make delay of impor¬ 
tance: and they are well content to travel at 
that pace which best suits the proprietor of 
the horses—that is to say, the government; 



62 


T R A N S R11F, N AN E MEMOIRS. 


for, throughout the whole of Germany, the 
concurrence or competition of regularly- 
established coaches is prohibited. 

When, therefore, a German is about to 

s. N 

undertake a journey, the only object he can 
have in inquiring the number of hours or of 
days which he will have to pass on the road, 
is this;—that he may be able to decide on 
the quantity of tobacco which it will be 
prudent to take with him. If his journey is 
to last two days, he lays in a certain store of 
the cherished herb : if it is to be prolonged 
to three days, he puts half as much more into 
his pouch. 

I ought to say that it is forbidden to 
smoke in the stage-coaches, if any fellow- 
traveller raises an objection. But where is he 
who is not equally an amateur of the consola¬ 
tory art? Ladies, it is true, do not indulge 
in it; but I pity her who has not learned to 
love the odour—as cooks are said to live on 
the fumes alone of the dishes and stews 
amongst which they pass their lives. 

Pendant to their left sides, the postillions 
here wear a small hunting horn. This they 


TRANSRIIENANE MEMOIRS. 03 

often put to an use different to that for which 
it is intended, and beguile the tediousness of 
mountain roads by pleasing airs performed 
with good taste and sufficient skill. Nor is 
this the only music heard in this country 
where every peasant is believed to be a musi¬ 
cian ; for seldom do I enter a village inn 
which cannot show its humble piano: and 
during our meals, the country people some¬ 
times assemble in the outward room, and 
forming a good band with a variety of instru¬ 
ments, call away the, till then, hungry tra¬ 
vellers by playing some lively waltz. 

At day-break we passed through a handsome 
street of the formerly imperial town of Augs¬ 
burg. The bells of the Catholic churches 
were already calling to the early mass, and 
many were the female figures that crept 
through the rainy streets, carrying a well- 
worn prayer-book in their hands. Those who 
only visit our churches at fashionable hours, 
can form but very erroneous opinions on the 
devotion of the people. Let them inspect 
them early in the morning, or during the 
bustle of a working, of a week day,—and 




T R A N S R H E N A N E MEMOIRS. 



they will ever find some humble suppliants 
meekly seeking consolation at the foot of the 
retired altar. And let me tell the Protestant 
church-shutter, whom I so kindly damned a 
few pages back, that the power of entering a 
church at all times is a great consolation to 
the really religious person. On seeing an 
open door, even the thoughtless worldling 
may sometimes be tempted to enter, and a 
saddening, solacing balm may be unexpectedly 
cast over his petty, his piteously petty pursuits. 

This, I well know, is not according to the 
language of the age. That age, whether 
Protestant or Catholic, is too enlightened for 
every-day prayers 1 Why should we call 
upon the Divinity to witness our smooth, 
egotistically-complacent career? Is religion 
made for the children of prosperity ? In 
adversity we will wildly cry and rave, and 
fancy that we are praying : but so long as 
fortune smiles upon us, we surely do sufficient, 
when we pay our unmeaning weekly devoirs 
to the Divinity, in order to keep up a sort of 
connexion that we may not lose our right of 
appeal cn cas de besom . 


TRANSRTIENANE MEMOIRS. 


65 


MUNICH. 

As the present work—if ever it is to be 
what is so denominated—only pretends to be 
a resume of the reflections, observations, and 
sentiments which a traveller notes down in 
order to occupy the hours that he would 
otherwise be compelled to pass idly in an 
hotel, I have no fear of straying from my 
subject. With me, there can be no such 
thing as digression : if the interval between 
one stage and another pass imperceptibly 
away, I am contented ; my object is fulfilled. 
And I feel confident that, while perusing 
these sheets, time will not hang heavy on the 
hands of the reader. I remember to have 
seen, in one of the English Reviews, a code of 
rules by which to judge of the merits of any 
novel:—“ Did the dinner-bell seem to you to 
“ring earlier than usual ? Did you drink 
“ less wine than is your wont? Did you sit 
“ later than on most nights?” 

To this sort of test the critic wished to 
subject all novels. I do not impugn the 

F 



66 TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 

justice of his method, or the infallibility of 
his ordeal, with respect to all works quae 
vacnas tenuissent carmine mentes: but I must 
protest against it in the present instance. 
Mine is not a work of fiction ; it can excite 
no very lively interest; and can only kill time> 
when read by him who never finds time too 
long-lived. 

Munich is a fine, little town—a very 
respectable capital for a kingdom of the size 
of that around it. In most of these cities, 
the royal palace is the prominent building; 
but at Munich it is merely a very large 
dwelling-house without any pretension to 
architectural beauty. Its park, or English 
garden—thus they flatteringly call all pleasure- 
grounds which are not laid out with the formal 
regularity of Louis XIV.—is pretty. 

But it is on its literary institutions that 
Munich prides itself; and these I regret not 
having visited. None of the people of the 
hotel in which I was lodged spoke French; 
and being seized with a fit of insurmountable 
uncomfortableness, I thus answered a Professor 
in one of the Colleges who had the goodness 




TRANSItHENANE MEMOIRS. 


67 


to press me to defer my departure. 44 But,” 
said he, 44 you have not seen the royal Picture 
“ Gallery ?” 4 The floor is now encumbered 

‘ by workmen, and admittance has been denied 

* me: besides, the paintings of Munich, how- 

4 ever fine they may be, are less anxiously 
‘ thought of by one who is acquainted with 
‘ every gallery of Italy/ 44 You have not 
“ seen Canova’s fine modern statues ?” 4 1 

4 have studied all Canova's most beautiful 
4 models in his own Roman workshop/ 44 You 
44 have not seen the extensive collection of 
44 ancient marbles?” 4 I have often stumbled 

4 over the precious marbles that formerly 

* adorned the imperial halls, and that now 
4 impede the cultivation of the vegetables that 
4 spring up amongst the tottering ruins of the 
4 once-more herbosa Palatia. 9 

The Professor smiled, and I left Munich. 
The greater part of the kingdom of Bavaria 
consists in an extensive plain, which, stretch- 
ing from the Danube to the Alps, corresponds 
to that which, on the opposite side, reaches 
from the slimy waters of the Po to the snow- 
white barriers of Italy. Yet how different 

j? 2 


68 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


the aspect of these two plains ! In the one, 
agriculture prospers but little: in the other, 
we behold the garden of the garden of Europe. 
Oh, you natives of the North! visit these two 
countries; compare Lombardy and Bavaria, 
and you will regret that the Alps enclose but 
so small a space; that the sun does not extend 
further the influence of its all-creative rays! 

Sol tibi signa dabxt. Solent quis dicere falsum 

Audeat ? 


NIGHT. 

“ You have a new country before you ; be 
“ prudent and equal-minded ; give up senti- 

“ mentality. 99 such is the advice which 

a friend has the kindness to send me. “ Give 
“up sentimentality—What! when sitting 
alone on the top of a Bavarian stage-coach, 
I see the bright sun set on my left, and its 
lingering light gradually fade upon the snow- 
topped Tyrolian mountains that rise into the 
heavens on my right? when the full-moon 



TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 

» 


69 


soars above in an unclouded sky, and the 
whole surrounding plain is hushed in repose, 
and “ sleeping in moon-light luxury ?" 
when nothing interrupts the lovely stillness 
of the scene, save that, from time to time, 
the postillions lift their romantic cors de 
chasse from their belts, and sound, in concert, 
the beautiful Tyrolienne ■—the native song of 
the neighbouring rocks? when the half- 
suppressed sounds gradually die away on the 
gentle breeze, and then again burst forth in 
noisy brilliancy ? when in a strange country, 
in the midst of a people who speak an un¬ 
known tongue, fifteen hundred miles from any 
friend or acquaintance, I can thus, at the hour 
of midnight, give way to the undisturbed 
enjoyment of such a scenery, and think that 
the same beautiful orb that now shines over 
this distant plain, illumines also the countries 
of those who are dear to me, and, perhaps at 
this moment, serves as a point of attraction 
to our mutual admiration and our mutual 

thoughts?.No! if by “giving up senti- 

“ mentality,” my friend recommends a dull 
insensibility at such an hour, and in such a ; 




70 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


situation,—I envy not the aridity which 
prompts his advice. 


MORNING. 

Oh, that I could obtain one hour’s quiet 
sleep! How little, when sleeping comfortably 
in our beds, do we appreciate the repose we 
enjoy ! My coat is damp with dew ; I have 
passed a restless night. The sun is about to 
rise ; the birds are already singing amidst the 
trees. Poor fools, not to sleep longer, now 
that you have it in your power ! now that you 
are shaded by your own native woods! now 
that you are not encaged on... .a jolting coach! 


THE FRONTIER OF AUSTRIA. 

We stopped near a small river flowing be¬ 
tween precipitous, pine-covered banks, and 
which recalled to me the winding passage 
which the narrow Avon forces through the 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 71 

crags of Clifton. We soon afterwards crossed 
it on a wooden bridge, and, entering the town 
of Braunau, found ourselves in the Empire of 
Austria. 

The ceremony of the Custom-house was 
here gone through with great politeness. 
This was the first time my trunk had been 

J 

inspected since I left Paris. Great merriment 
was excited amongst the custom-house officers 
by the carelessness and inattention with which 
it was packed. They knew not that, after ten 
or twelve years passed in travelling, a man 
becomes tired of the occupation, and altoge¬ 
ther neglects the once-favourite amusement of 
skilfully stowing his goods. The entrance of 
books is a matter of interest to the govern¬ 
ment, and one on which its Arguses exercise 
all their vigilance. An English-German 
grammar which lay on the top, attracted, 
therefore, considerable notice, and occasioned 
some whispering amongst the chiefs : it was, 
however, at length replaced in its former 
situation, and the trunk was again closed. 
The inspectors had not observed fifteen or 
twenty volumes which, notwithstanding my 



7*2 TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 

much-derided carelessness, I had had the 
foresight to place beneath the other things. 

PREMATURE PLANS. 

I had formerly intended to descend the 
Danube from Linz, or even from Ulm. 
Boats—of no very prepossessing appearance— 
go regularly from either of these places to 
Vienna. But as they always lie by during 
the night, as long a time is employed in this 
descent as would be required for a voyage 
across the Atlantic. Moreover, the sailors 
are said to be excessively timid, and the river 
being now swollen by the late rains, two 
monsters—which, from the description given 
of them, greatly resemble Scylla and Cha- 
rybdis—are said to have been formed in the 
bed of the torrent, and might occasion con¬ 
siderable delav. 

* •/ 

In chusing the land conveyance from Ulm, 
1 had also been influenced by my intention 
of visiting Salzburg. I might, without length¬ 
ening my journey, have followed that road 


TRANSRIIENANE MEMOIRS. 


73 


from Munich ; but eight days were to pass, 
before the regular coach would again start 
from the latter place, and I wished not to 
engage again with a voiturier’s carriage. The 
difficulty attending my intercourse with the 
secluded natives of the mountains of Upper 
Austria would, also, have greatly diminished 
the pleasure I might have received from the 
excursion. In short, many more reasons than 
I can now recapitulate led me to abandon 
my design altogether, and to defer my visit 
to Salzburg until a “ more favourable 
“ opportunity.” 

But the circumstance of my not having 
visited the place need, in no way, prevent my 
describing it to the reader. Other tourists 
have been accused of practising this method; 
and wherefore should not I imitate their ex¬ 
ample ? I must, however, assure the reader 
that this is the first time I have had recourse 
to such a deception, and that I will never 
again impose it upon him. With this solemn 
declaration, I shall now proceed to give him 
a systematic account of my tour to the great 
salt-works of Halleim and to the Austrian 


74 TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 

lakes. The descriptions I shall give of them 
will be as well entitled to credit as are the 
relations of most tourists, who, for the greater 
part, seem to compose them on my present 
alibi system. The information I shall offer 
has, at least, been obtained at a faithful 
source: and I now, therefore, proceed to my 
task,—praying, with the author of the Hen - 
riade , that the Muse of Truth would guide 
my pen, and enable me to give a faithful 
account of my journey; for I confess that 
Ad nosy vix tenuufamce perlabitur aura. 


JOURNEY TO SALZBURG. 

I left Linz in an open calash drawn by 

two horses and guided by a voiturier . 

But I am already interrupted by that porter 
who is petitioning for “ Ir ink geld and as I 
can never forget the impression which the 
salt-mines and lakes produced upon me, I 
defer the description of them until I can be¬ 
speak a quiet and undisturbed hour. 



I 


CHAPTER V. 


The very generations of the dead 

Are swept away, and tomb inherits tomb, 

Until the memory of an age is fled. 

And, buried, sinks beneath its offspring’s doom: 
Where are the epitaphs our fathers read ? 

Save a few glean’d from the sepulchral gloom 
Which once-named myriads nameless lie beneath, 
And lose their own in universal death. 

Don Juan. Canto IV. 


The mail to Vienna was not to start 
until the following morning: but whenever 
four travellers meet together, a private carriage 
is furnished them, and they are entitled to 
proceed with post-horses for the same money 
as they would otherwise have paid for their 
places in the usual conveyance. When he 
avails himself of such a simple regulation as 
this, a traveller here feels as if he were re¬ 
ceiving a sort of favour from the proprietors 




76 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


of the coaches—the government: for so 
humble, so submissively-dutiful does he become 
after a short German training, that, to use 
a proverbial turn of phrase, he is inclined to 
forget that travellers were made before coaches. 
My three companions from Munich wished to 
continue their journey immediately ; I there¬ 
fore remained but four hours at Linz, which 
seems to be rather a fine city, and left it at 
three o’clock on a rainv evening. 

As we rose on the neighbouring hills, the 
thunder resounded loud from the surrounding 
mountains, and, amidst the deluge of falling 
rain, the lightning vividly flashed. But soon 
we left the storm behind and below us. 
Passing along the narrow ridge of a chain of 
lofty hills, we enjoyed, on each side, an ex¬ 
tensive view of a very fine country. On our 
right were the bold, rocky hills that shoot out 
from the distant line of the Styrian Alps: 
deeply imbedded on our left, the Danube 
rolled its heavy waters; and further on, the 
valley through which it flowed was bounded 
by the mountains that descend from the grand 
ridge of the Bohemian forest. The irregular 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


77 


country immediately beneath us was richly 
cultivated 5 but all its ravines and lowly-retired 
spots were concealed by the dense fogs that 
lay heavily upon them, and which the more 
slender and less solid watery streaks joined to 
the steady clouds that, in a great measure, 
veiled the dark-blue expanse above. 

Such was the scenery through which we 
rapidly travelled so long as day-light lasted: 
that which the following morning showed was 
far less interesting. 


THE FETE-DIEU. 

This day was the Fete-Dieu —the festival 
of Corpus Christi —which, as is well known, is 
celebrated in Catholic countries with grand, 
so-called, religious processions, in which the 
Sovereign and his Court join. The streets of 
the different villages through which we passed 
were lined with branches of elm trees, the 
whole population was dressed in its best 
clothes, the flowing hair of the children 
was adorned with garlands of flowers, every 


78 TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 

one was hastening to the call of the church 
bells. 

A religious procession, formed by the poor 
inhabitants of a humble village, is very differ¬ 
ent from one of the same nature which a 
sovereign and his court follow through the 
streets of a town. In the one case, it is, most 
probably, an act of real devotion; in the 
other, it is, almost of necessity, an act of 
worldly parade. Disguise it as you will, the 
Sovereign who walks on foot after the Host 
is, in the minds of most beholders, the prin¬ 
cipal object, and that one which attracts the 
most attention in the procession : while the 
noisy rabble, the rushing crowd, the threaten¬ 
ing soldiery, and the whole city bustle, are 
but bad accompaniments to an act of devotion. 
But when a few peasants, headed by their 
priest, meekly walk through the lanes of their 
village; when there is no rush, no ostenta¬ 
tion, no show—the impression produced is 
far different: and when they carry their God 
through the fields which his bounty fertilizes, 
and under the bright sun, and the pure air 
which breathes of his splendour and his holi- 


- TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 79 

ness—they worship him in a temple more 
worthy of his majesty, than the worldly, 
polluted streets of a capital. 

In this district, and indeed in every Catholic 
district of Germany, we see a greater number 
of crosses and of statues of saints than are 
met with even in the States of papal Rome. 
Many of these are bedecked with flowers, 
which had been renewed for the present 
solemnity. To these images, Protestants 
affirm that the Catholics address their prayers: 
they will not believe our assertions to the 
contrary; they know our creed and our hearts 
more intimately than we ourselves. Will 
they believe me when I declare that one of 
these marble statues which I saw thus adorned, 
had, either from accident or intentionally, 
been deprived of its head; that that part of 
the stone from which the head had been 
struck was already moss-grown; but that, 
nevertheless, this statue was adorned with 
flowers, and continued to receive the same 
honours as were granted to its less-mutilated 
companions? The conclusion to be drawn 
from this fact is unanswerable: if it were true 


80 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


that the ignorance of the people ever led them 
to believe that any supernatural virtue was 
contained in the statue, would not that same 
ignorance have taught them that the statue, 
that the being, when it had lost its head, 
could no longer understand their prayers ? 
But if, on the contrary, they only beheld in 
the statue the image of an immortal protector, 
it little mattered to them whether that image 
had or had not a head ;—*a sufficient portion 
of it still remained to recal to their remem¬ 
brance him whom it represented; and him 
they honoured when they adorned his broken 
statue. 

“ Make us a picture of the Crucifixion to 
“ place in our church,” said a deputation of 
poor labourers from a village in the south of 
France. “ Do you choose for the figure of 
“ Christ to be represented dead or still living?” 
demanded the artist. This was a question on 
which the projectors of the painting had 
never thought: but, after consulting together 
for some moments, they replied to my friend 
the painter, “ You had better make it living, 
“ because, if it does not please us so, it can 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


81 


€t be killed afterwards.” Who does not see 
in this simple expression of their limited idea 
of the art of painting, that they intended to 
look upon their future picture as a mere me¬ 
morial ?—else would they have talked of 
putting to death their God P 


VIENNA. 

Another capital! Must T endeavour to 
describe it in detail, and, passing through 
each street, point out the several beauties of 
the buildings it contains ? By adopting this, 
the usual plan, I might, indeed, convey a 
correct notion of a succession of detached 
edifices, but I should give only a very faint 
idea of the general features of the place. 
This general character which distinguishes 
each capital, might be better understood from 
one single epithet than from such partially- 
petty architectural descriptions. The distin¬ 
guishing epithets which were formerly given 
to the several towns of Italy, conveyed very 
exact ideas of the general character of each 5 

G 

V 

\ N 


-32 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


and these epithets might, with equal advantage, 
be extended to all other cities. Thus after 
altering those titles, which were with propriety 
attached to the Italian capitals during the 
meridian of their glory, into others better 
suited to the present degraded state of that 
beautiful country—I would transfer the laco- 
nically-descriptive system beyond the Alps; 
and, passing from Venice, the deservedly- 
expiring aristocratic tyrant; from Naples, 
the beauteous region of fable ; from Rome, 
the mighty sepulchre ; from Florence, still 
“ la bella from Genoa, the useless marble 
counter; from Milan, the fair writhing slave; 
and from Turin, the kingly gaoler,—I would 
cross over to Paris, the princely-voluptuous; 
to London, the haughty-commercial ; to 
Vienna, the imperial residence of civilized 
feudal chieftains. 

This is, in fact, the characteristic feature 
of Vienna. Within a small space—for in one 
hour a man may walk round the whole line 
of its now-demolished walls—within a small 
space is a conglobation of private palaces, the 
handsome architecture of which adorns each 


TRANSRIIENANE MEMOIRS. 


83 


side of narrow, irregular streets. Scarcely 
any thing like the house of a rich merchant 
appears within the walls, while the immense 
suburbs are swelled by those whom riches 
never fail to attract. Vienna, on a larger 
scale, is not unlike the capitals of some of the 
smaller Italian principalities ; and many of 
the same features which run through Parma 
or Modena are to be found in this imperial 
capital of a petty State,—but of a petty State 
which claims the obedience of several other 
capitals, of several other equally large dis¬ 
tricts. As the capital of Bohemia, Hungary, 
Moravia, Gallicia, Transylvania, Lombardy, 
and Austria—Vienna is small and insignifi¬ 
cant : but as the capital of only one of these 
districts, each of which has its own more im¬ 
mediate metropolis, Vienna is a fine city. 


VIENNA POLICE. 

“ M. Ie Chevalier ,” I said to a gentleman 
employed in the police-office, “ M. le Cheva - 
“ Her, I request you to give me an AufenthalU 

g 2 


84 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


44 Carte , a permission to live at Vienna during 
44 two months.” 4 Pray, Sir, what is your 
4 object in travelling, and wishing to stop at 
* Vienna ?’ “I have none whatever, Sir.” 
4 It is always required by the police that, be- 
4 fore he can obtain an Aiifenthalt-Carte , the 
4 stranger should bring us a certificate from 
4 some resident native of Vienna, who will 
4 undertake to answer for his conduct, et 
4 csetera: your banker will give you this/ 
44 I have brought letters to no banker.” 4 Are 
4 you acquainted with no one in the town ?’ 
44 1 have letters to several of the first families, 
44 but I find that, in this season, they are all 
44 at their country seats. I have also a letter 

44 of introduction from Mr. K- to your- 

44 self, M. le Chevalier , which I regret not 
44 having yet been able to deliver.” 4 1 shall 
4 be very happy to make your acquaintance, 
4 Sir, but the gentleman from whom you have 
4 received that letter is a foreigner, an Eng- 
4 lishman: the police requires that the certi- 
4 ficate should be delivered by a native/ 44 I 

44 have, also, a letter to your friend M-, 

44 who, I am informed, will return to Vienna 




TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


85 


* *■ 

“ in the course of a fortnight.’’ * In the 
c course of a fortnight! All this is, Sir, ex- 
‘ cessively embarrassing! I will, nevertheless, 

* deliver to you a permission to reside at 

* Vienna during fifteen days: but I must re- 
‘ quest you to bring me a certificate from the 

* gentleman you last mentioned so soon as he 
‘ shall return from the country. You must 

* now pay four shillings for this Aufenthalt- 

* Carte , but when you bring me the certificate, 

* I shall be able to prolong it for six weeks, 

* without putting you to any additional 
‘ expense.” 


THE PRATER. 

I was told to visit the Prater, and admire 
the equipages that resort to this public walk. 
I crossed the neat stone bridge over the 
Danube, and followed the crowd through the 
suburb. What a motley collection of human 
beings do I now see around me ! It is some 
public fete, and the numerous temporary 
booths, caffes, and shows, are thronged by idle 


86 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


multitudes. Here, a crowd is collected be¬ 
fore the universal, the cosmopolite, if I may 
so call it, theatre of Punch ; there, four 
laughing figures are swung through the air 
in a suspended car: here, people placed in 
arm chairs, on fine war-horses, or on long¬ 
necked swans, are turned round a pivot to the 
sound of an unpretending band, of which the 
music would, any where but in Germany, be 
esteemed excellent; there, two country fellows 
are laying wagers which shall oftenest strike 
the mark with a pointed log slung to the end 
of a long cord : here, two rows of speculators 
are anxiously watching the course of every 
bowl that escapes from the equally-poised 
hand of the player, and rolls along the uneven 
grass; there, the town artisan sits at the table 
of a caffe, and, with his wife or sweetheart, 
drinks beer from out a large glass tankard, 
while the fumes from his tobacco-pipe hang, 
like a waving canopy, to the boughs of the 
overshadowing acacia trees; and, near him, 
the proprietor of waxen figures or wild beasts 
extols the wonderful formation and properties 
of the prisoners of his menagerie, and invites 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 87 

the astonished listener to pass under his 
jealously-closed tent. 

It is always interesting to find the same 
popular modes of amusement resorted to in 
the most distant European countries, though 
we may feel distressed on recognising the 
universality of our wants, and lowered in our 
own estimation, by observing how petty are 
the expedients which are sufficient to satisfy 
the restlessness of that race of beings which 
boast of the undivided possession of the proud 
gift of reason. But Vienna offers to the 
stranger an additional source of meditation in 
the variety of nations which assemble within 
it, and which is greater here than in any other 
capital. Amongst these gazing crowds of the 
Prater, there circulated numbers of Bohemians, 
Sicilians, Hungarians, Turks, and Greeks— 
what names to couple with the sons of Greece ! 
—each of these differing from the other in 
his dress and entire appearance, and having 
only this one thing in common,—that each 
carried a tobacco-pipe, from which issued a 
never-failing current of smoke! 

I passed through these crowds of holiday 


88 


TIiANSRHEN ANE MEMOIRS. 


idlers, through these cor da oblita laborum , 
and advanced along a solitary, shaded, unfre¬ 
quented path. The Prater is a low island, 
about fifteen miles in length, formed by the 
lesser branch of the Danube—that one which 
passes beside the town—and its other streams. 
It is an imperial chase, but ever open to the 
quiet incursions of the public, who seek fresh 
air amongst the old trees with which it is 
irregularly studded. As I now wound my 
way through them, the unmolested, unterri¬ 
fied deer tamely browsed the grass beside the 
path, and scarcely cast an inquiring glance as 
I passed along. I reached the main branch 
of the Danube. Opposite was the plain of 
Wagram—the now silent plain which, not 
many years ago, had heard the thunders of 
the overpowering cannon, and had seen the 
upstart hero gain the completest victory over 
the power of one of the most ancient sovereign 
houses of Europe. This was the plain from 
which his cannon returned to proclaim his 
friendly entrance into the families of ancient 
royalty, when, had he rightly understood his 
own interests, it would have caused the knell 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


89 


of conquered aristocratic sovereignty to pro¬ 
claim the supremacy of the republican general. 
This was the plain which enabled the ill- 
placed vanity of the popular leader to demand 
an alliance with the noble royal blood, which 
his republican pride ought to have spurned as 
unworthy of his own more lofty pretensions, 
as pregnant with the treachery which would 
ever aim to undermine his dreaded superiority. 

I recrossed the island and walked towards 
the town—following the involutions of the 
river. The Danube ! I thought within me ; 
what grand ideas do we attach to this stream! 
What important actions have taken place on 
its banks ! How many barbarous nations has 
it formerly beheld in turns conquered and in 
turns victorious! How many barbarous swarms 
have passed over its waters to ravage the des¬ 
potic mistress of the subject world! Where 
are now the conquerors and the conquered, 
who have bled on these banks ? Where are 
now the barbarous leaders, who bravely de¬ 
fended the pusillanimous nations they them¬ 
selves overawed and governed ? Where are 


90 


TRANSIIHENANE MEMOIRS. 


those so-called civilised nations, which, grossly 
wallowing in the enjoyments of sensual luxury, 
basely secured their momentary and uncertain 
safety by the payment of disgraceful tributes 
to the wild forest-savages who have brought 
honour, and morality, and free institutions, to 
a sunken and polluted world ? All, all is 
changed, while these waters still continue 
their restless, but unaltered, course 1 These 
waters are still the same, though they now see 
proud cities towering, where formerly stood the 
dark forest-retreats of untameable barbarians ; 
and though they now behold other nations, with 
minds still more savage and barbarous, usurp¬ 
ing the place of those who were the most 
polished of the ancient world. Thus do these 
waters still flow towards the most delightful 
portion of the earth ; these very waves on 
which I now look will, perhaps, oh bleeding 
Greece!* dance in the reflection of the sun 

* By exact geographers, this reverie may, I am aware, 
be objected to: but let them wander, as I have done, on 
the banks of the Danube, and then say if they would wish 
to restrain those flights of the imagination which would 
connect the Euxine to the Egean sea. 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


91 


which still shines bright on thy polluted 
shores! Take, then, oh rapid river! this 
light straw, which I pick from this not less 
triumphantly-despotic soil ; let it follow the 
proud current of thy waters, and let me think 
that something from my hand has been carried 
to those seas that lave the ever-consecrated 
lands of liberty, of heroism, of poetry:—those 
lands which have beheld the victories of a 
Miltiades and those of a Mahomet, the genius 
of a Homer and of a Byron ! 

In this manner I fondly gave way to the 

« 

train of my desultory inusings, until the straw, 
which I had, with childish pleasure, com¬ 
mitted to the stream, became entangled in 
a quantity of floating soap-bubbles. Thus, I 
impatiently exclaimed, does hum-drum reality 
ever intercept the flights of imagination ! I 
have seen the huts of washerwomen disfigure 
the banks of the Po; I have seen dirty linen 
cleansed in the historic waters of the imperial 
Tiber ; and now the straw which I had sent 
as an offering to the shores of Athens, and had 
pictured to myself already moored amongst 


92 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


the rocks of Cape Sunium,—is arrested by 
the soap-suds which have mingled with the 
waters of the Danube, after having purified 
the unheroic clothing of an Austrian serf! 



/ 


CHAPTER VI. 


What are the fillets on the victor’s brow 

To these? They are rags or dust. Where is the arch 
Which nodded to the nation’s spoils below ? 

Where the triumphant chariot’s haughty march ? 
Gone to where victories must line dinners go. 

Further I shall not follow the research: 

But oh! ye modern heroes with your cartridges, 

When will your names lend lustre even to partridges. 

Don Juan. Canto XV. 


If the present peace continues, all the 
different States of Europe will soon form but 
one grand united republic of intellect and 
fashion. 

I paid a visit to a lady of Vienna. The 
conversation between her, a German, and me, 
an Englishman, was carried on in French. 
She led me into her daughter’s bedroom—for 
the custom of receiving visiters in bedrooms 
exists here as in most continental countries. 




94 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


On one table in Luise’s room, I saw a prayer- 
book in German lying beside another in 
French : on a second table, were the Italian 
works of Metastatio placed beside a French 
novel: on her toilet were a number of French 
perfumes : on a pedestal stood a small bust of 
the Archduke Charles ; and against the wall 
hung an English engraving of the battle of 
Waterloo. Seating herself at her piano, she 
sang French and Italian songs ; a German 
romance about the English Rosamund Clifford, 
and a German translation of “ Rule, Britan- 
u nia $” then followed Byron’s “ Maid of 
“ Athens” translated into French, and one 
of Moore’s “Irish Melodies” in English: 
she had a brother who had been named after 
an English friend, and, on taking leave, she 
shook hands with me with English frankness. 


AUSTRIAN FREEDOM. 

“ True said Baron- to me : “ but 

“ when I wish to travel beyond the Austrian 
" dominions, it is not the police that can give 



TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 95 

“ me a passport: no ; I must frame a sort of 
“ petition, declaratory of the object of my 
“journey, and of the time which I intend to 
“ pass on it; and this petition must pass 
“ through the ministry for foreign affairs to 
“ the Emperor himself* And after all these 
“ forms shall have been duly gone through, 
“ it is by no means certain that the passport, 
“ or, in other words, the leave of absence, 
“ will be granted me. If it is not thought 
“ proper to grant it to me, my request is 
“ merely noticed by the laconic reply, ‘ the 
“‘demand is not complied with/—and no 

“ more can be said about the matter. 

\ 

“ If, after a passport has been delivered to 
“ him, the Austrian subject is not returned 
“ to the imperial dominions at the expiration 
“ of the allotted term, the government reclaims 
“ him through its embassy to the country in 
“ which he happens to be residing. If he 
“ wishes to exceed the term first mentioned 
“ in the passport, the leave of absence cannot 
“ be prolonged without a second application 
“ to the Court at Vienna. Within the Aus- 
“ trian dominions, he is allowed to travel as 


96 TIlANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 

i( much as he pleases, and nothing is required 
“ but a simple, ordinary passport from the 
“ police j but he can never cross the frontier 
ie without submitting to the forms I have just 
“ mentioned.” 

1 It seems, then/ I said, ‘ that you are 
‘ neither more nor less than the serfs of the 
* Emperor—attached to his soil ?’ 

“ Exactly so,” was the reply he indig¬ 
nantly made. 


A HANDBILL. 

/ 

I went into a perfumer’s shop, and asked 
for a small phial of oil for the hair :—so 
polished are we grown that I shall, I know, 
lose nothing in the estimation of the modern 
reader by telling him that I wear my hair 
thus myrrci madentes. The phial was given 
me wrapped up in a German handbill, on 
which are the following words in French :— 
they also would, were the fact doubted, bear 
witness to the great extent of modern civili¬ 
zation and commerce. After announcing that 


TRANSRIIENANE MEMOIRS. 97 

the shopman has on sale “ Cumin cVAlicante , 
“ Citron de Medie , Rose de Damns, Anisette 
“ de Bordeaux, Marasquin de Zara, Jas - 
“ min des Azores, Orange de Portugal, Fleur 
“ d'Orange de Malte —how extensive are 
the operations of modern industry, and how 
small is the boasted skill of discovering, by 
the palate, on what coast of the Mediterranean 
oysters had been found, compared to that of 
ascertaining that oranges flourish best in Por- 
tugal, but that the blossom of the orange 
sends forth the sweetest smell in Malta!—the 
handbill proceeds also to offer “ Parfum 
“Imperial; Extrait de pois de Senteur; 
“ Eau de Heine des Fleurs, Eau Athenienne, 
“ de Beaute, d 9 Aspasie, de Ninon, de Guer - 
“ rieres Franqaises ,"—would Turnas, whose 
words I quoted just above, have objected to 
their making use of it?—“ Sans par eille, de 
“ Toilette, de Corisandre, de la belle Geor- 
“ gienne, de Ste. Marie Majeur,” —it is the 
building that is here alluded to, though I 
should not have been surprised had they made 
the blessed Virgin herself the patroness of a 
fashionable perfume, as St. Charles is the 


H 


98 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


patron of the theatre of Naples,—“ des Trois 
“ Graces, de Venus, de Cceur, de Troubadour, 
“ Parfum en Carquois, Royal, d’Amour, 
“ Cupidon, Zodiaque, d'Apollon, Persan, 
“ Ambroisie parfum des Dieux, Solitaire ,”— 
surely none are anxious to smell sweet in 
solitude, to sprinkle themselves with parfum 
solitaire , and, 

-“ as a flower, deep hid in rocky cleft, 

“ Smile though they ’re looking only at the sky?”— 

“ Famille Roy ale, Liliputienne, Eau Carica - 
“ ture , Eau de Soleil, Eau d’Ispahan, Eau 
“ des Alpes , Eau Regeneratrice, Creme de 
“ Sultanne; A pupa ruv ’EWvjvuv ”—for the 
blues, I suppose; “ Lait Virginal, Savon 
“ d y Apollon, Egyptien, de Venus , Mars, 
“ Cobourg, Alexandre, Berry, Oriental, 
u Palmyreine, de Serail, Rose d’ Amour, de 
“ Flore, de Peru, fyc. %c. 

Oh, how great is our superiority over the 
ancients ! When for our toilet only we can 
ransack every part of the world of whose 
existence antiquity ever heard, and that 
hemisphere that was unknown to it, when we 
appropriate to ourselves the heavenly perfumes 



TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


99 


used by its greatest gods and goddesses—have 
we not reason to bless that fate which has 
placed us in a later, in a more refined age ? 
Who will not believe in the doctrine of the 
perfectibility of the human race, when he sees 
that we moderns are able to make, for our 
own use, those heavenly drugs of which not 
even the most aspiring ancient poets ever 
dared to teach the mysterious composition ? 
When the writer of the Georgies lamented 
that “ every thing was already known/* and 
exclaimed, 

- Tentanda via est qua me quoque possim 

Tollere humo , vietorque virum volitare per ora , 

pity that no Parisian perfumer was present to 
encourage him to sing the recondite furniture 
of the cabinets de toilette of Mars, of Apollo, 
and of Venus ! Such a subject would have 
secured the more universal attention of poste¬ 
rity :—for who can feel as much interest in 
the beauty of a sheep, an ox, or a horse, as 
in that of his own person ? 

We are, indeed, grown more refined than 
our ancestors! And it is by this reasoning 
only that the author of the Esprit des Lois 

h 2 



100 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


can account for all the strange ordeals to 
which accused persons were exposed during 
the dark ages. “ For,” says he, “ that tribunal 
“ which condemned a warrior to hold, for 
“ some moments, a hot iron in his hand, which 
“ was then enclosed in a bag to be opened 
“ after three days, when he was acquitted if 
“ no mark remained on the skin—that tribunal 
“ was more rational than, at first thought, 
“ appears to us. Consider the habits of life 
u which men then followed : what impression 
“ could the momentary touch of a hot iron 
“ produce on the hand of one who passed his 
u life in arms and violent exercises, of one 
“ who prided himself only on the strength and 
“ manliness of his limbs? What impression 
“ would it produce on the skin of our common 
“ labourers ? But if, after three days, any 
“ marks of the bum appeared, they naturally 
“ argued the softness of the skin, and, conse- 
“ quentlv, the effeminacy of the character of 
“ the accused person :—and, to such dis- 
41 honourable effeminacy, what crime might 
“ not then be justly attributed ?” 

Alas! in those days of darkness and igno- 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


101 


ranee, there was no “ savon d y Apollon;” and 
warriors made no use of the “ creme de SuU 
“ tanne” of the “ parfum des trois Graces ” 
nor even of the “ eau caricature !” 


THEATRES. 

Amongst the “ rules and regulations ” 
which are posted up at the entrance of the 
Vienna theatres, I observe the following: 
(S triple applause—or three distinct rounds of 
“ clapping—being due to the Emperor and 
u imperial family, it is not proper that it 
“ should be bestowed on any* actor or actress 
li whatever.” 

Does not this breathe the true spirit of 
despotism ?—“ triple applause being due to 
“ the Emperor ?” To put forth “ rules” of 
conduct and politeness, seems, also, an avowal 
that they are not generally known to the 
audience. 

The theatres of Vienna are small and 
shabby ; but the company which performs at 

* Query “ other ?”— Printer's Devil 



10-2 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


the Italian Opera is generally composed of 
the best singers of the day. 

In their public speaking the Germans use 
less action than the Italians; but though I do 
not yet understand their language, the strong 
cadences of their voices seem calculated to 
persuade. In one of the churches I lately 
heard a German sermon : if Christianity were 
dependent on the language in which it should 
be taught, that of the preacher before me 
would have appeared too harsh for its mild 
doctrine. It is, more than any other, a fierce, 
a powerful, a spirit-stirring language. Fancy 
the heroic Arminius addressing his wild 
countrymen in this their fine, overpowering 
dialect, and you will conceive the facility 
with which he wielded their warlike natures. 
How much more imposing and influential 
must not his discourses have been when de¬ 
livered in this their natural, energetic harsh¬ 
ness, than when smoothed down by the 
beautiful Italian eloquence of Tacitus ! The 
German language was, indeed, alone suited 
to the untamed children of the forests of the 
north, battling for that first of political bless- 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


103 


ings which the south could never retain,— 
bleeding to preserve their national indepen¬ 
dence and that constitutional freedom—the 
indigenous plant which, first known in their 
dark and despised morasses, has stretched far 
from its natal precincts, and whose precious 
seeds, ripened by the light of reason, will 
soon be widely wafted by the rising gale, and 
carried to the strongest fastnesses of long- 
triumphant despotism. 


EX-PARTE REASONING. 

The English proverb says that “ necessity 
" is the mother of invention.” Walking this 
morning on the ramparts, I passed the open 
gate of a garden, but hesitated to enter that 
which I supposed to be private property. A 
notice was painted on a board beside me$ but, 
being in German, it could give me little 
information. I, nevertheless, began to read 
it in hopes of gaining the intelligence I 
wanted, and, at length, came to two words 


101 < TIIANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 

% 

which I understood—“ Hunde nicht .” This, 
thought I, is sufficient *, if “ dogs not,” every 
thing else, of course, may: an exception im¬ 
plies a general rule. 

I entered the place: it was the Folksgarlen 
—a small public walk, lately planted amidst 
the once-formidable bulwarks destroyed by 
the French. In the center, surrounded by 
some meagre poplar trees, stands a small 
temple, imitative of the imposing monuments 
of Psestum : in this is placed Canova’s statue 
of Theseus destroying the Centaur. I like it 
not: others may hold a different opinion, and 
I own that no local fault is to be found in the 
composition: every muscle is properly and 
correctly represented ; but where is the 
divince particula aurce that ought to animate 
them ? The man is well made, but Canova 
did not kindle in him those sparks of living 
lire which so often followed the blows of his 
chisel! 

This statue was undertaken by the order of 
Napoleon : at his fall it was unfinished, and 
Francis is reported to have refused to pay the 
price which the other had undertaken to give. 


TRANSIIIIENANE MEMOIRS. 


105 


In consequence of this diminution, Canova is 
said to have equipped his hero with a dan- 
gerously-economical helmet. The patron had 
been bereaved of his power, and the artist 
could no longer provide the “ arme incanlate” 
Thus does Theseus suffer from the fall of 
Napoleon! But in no way can we here apply 
the two verses which Ariosto addresses to 
Rinaldo’s horse— 

“ II misero non avea Varme IEttore 

“ Come ilpadron , onde convien che muore 

for Napoleon has long since sunk under the 
fate from which not even the “ arms of 
<£ Hector” could have rescued him ; and the 
present quiescent state of the Grecian demi¬ 
god requires not the protection of mortal 
armour. 


DIVORCE. 

“ My peasants,” said a Hungarian Coun¬ 
tess to me, “judge of the riches of a neigh- 
“ hour by enquiring how often he has been 
“ married: for each wife brings an increase 


106 TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 

“ of fortune and soon sinks under the ill- 
“ treatment of the husband. Moreover, 
“ divorce is common amongst them. The 
“ greater part of the population is Catholic ; 
“ but often does a married man or woman 
“ come to me, saying, ‘ Madame, I wish to 
“ ‘ change my religion, and become a Protes- 
i€ 1 tant.* “ Why so ?’* ‘ I think I shall be 

“ * happier in that creed.* Of course I cannot 
“ refuse consent. He has his conversion re- 
“ gistered; divorces his wife; marries another; 
“ and, six weeks afterwards, returns to his 
“ first faith. Divorce, you are aware, is for- 
“ bidden by the Catholic Church, though the 
“ Protestant allows it to its followers. Thus 
“ a Protestant man is able to divorce his 
“ Catholic wife; but her religion does not 
“ permit her to marry again during the life 
“ of her first husband. And in my country 
“ of religious toleration, a change of belief is 
“ almost always the prelude to a change of 
“ partner;—the which end being accomplished, 
“ the party immediately abandons the creed 
“ he had hypocritically and momentarily 
“ adopted. It even often happens that, after 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 107 

“ this lawful inconstancy, a man divorces his 
“ second, and is again married to his first, 
44 vvife. ,, 

* And do your laws present no obstacles to 
4 these frequent divorces ?’ 44 None ; the 

44 illimited religious toleration established by 
44 the Emperor Joseph still subsists. ,, * 11 e- 
4 ligious toleration/ I replied, 4 has no warmer 
4 partisan than myself. I believe that in 
4 that State, the legislature of which should 
4 not inquire what religious creed its subjects 
4 professed, or whether they professed any 
4 whatever,—both the temporal and spiritual 
4 authority would be more loved and respected. 
4 But marriage is a civil, as well as a religious, 
4 engagement; and the frequency of divorce 
4 which you describe, is evidently opposed to 
4 the civil well-being of any society, and ought, 

4 therefore, to be opposed by the civil autho- 
i rity—even though permitted by the spiritual 
4 courts/ 


108 


TRANSIIHENANE MEMOIRS. 


MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY. 

This Museum—brought, I believe, from 
Milan—is opened every Monday, during two 
hours, to those who have previously obtained 
tickets of admission. So much for Austrian 
protection of general science and knowledge! 

From the crowds of people who visit it when 
open, it is evident that the time allowed is 
by no means sufficient for the residents of 
Vienna: but not even to strangers are any 
additional facilities presented. The public 
collections of Paris and of Italy are more 
generously exhibited. 


CHAPTER VII. 


They were alone once more ; for them to be 
Thus was another Eden; they were never 
Weary unless when separate: the tree 

Cut from its forest root of years—the river 
Damm’d from its fountain—the child from the knee 
And breast maternal, wean’d at once for ever, 
Would wither less than those two torn apart; 

Alas! there is no instinct like the heart. 

Don Juan. Canto IV. 


Napoleon II!—It is provoking to have 
passed six weeks at Vienna without having 
seen him whom so many would wish, and so 
many would fear, to hail by this title. I 
consoled myself, however, by the thought 
that, if this youth ever attains to the inheri¬ 
tance of fame bequeathed him by his father, 
opportunities of beholding him will not be 
wanting; and if he is destined to live and die 
an Archduke of the House of Austria,—the 




no 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


not having seen him need cause me no 
regret. 

I have met with extracts from a work m 
which the character of this young man is 
depicted in those strong colours which uni¬ 
versal continental report ascribes to him. 
That character does, in fact, already excite 
the hopes of his well-wishers—but these are 
few—and the fears of his enemies—who are 
many. “ 11 n'a que trop d'esprit —he is but 
“too clever,” is an opinion which I have 
heard announced by French royalists : while 
others profess to anticipate as certain his 
future exaltation to the throne of France. 
But though Napoleon, “ 1e grand," be ad¬ 
mired by the greater part of continental 
Europe, yet the French would never wish to 
restore his gove.nment. The more numerous 
party in France is sincerely attached to the 
Constitutional Charter; and the bright glory 
of the conqueror’s sword would be unable to 
efface, amidst the nation’s enthusiastic pride, 
the remembrance and the fear of the chains 
of the despot. It is only through the discon¬ 
tent which may be excited by the misgovern- 






TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


Ill 


ment of the Bourbons, and their violations of 
the Constitution, that the son of Napoleon 
can hope to enforce his pretensions, and claim 
that title which, at his abdication of the 
throne, was made over to him by his father : 
and, dating his reign from that epoch, annul 
the existence of the intervening governments, 
as Louis XVIII. annulled that of the 
“ Usurper.” 

At the time of the ex-emperor’s death, I 
repeated to a Frenchman, one of his most 
violent partisans, that the English papers had 
told that the last words, uttered in a discon¬ 
nected manner, by the expiring hero were— 
“ mon fils ... .tele d'armee. ... France ....” ‘I 
‘ cannot understand them,’ exclaimed the 
Napolconist; ‘what do they mean? il n’y 
‘ point de liaison .’ 

In hopes of meeting young Napoleon at 
Baden, where he was staying, I left Vienna 
in one of the many carriages which run in 
every direction round the capital, and carry 
its population to the many pleasuring spots to 
which it loves to resort on holidays. The 
persons in the carriage were, like all Germans, 


11 % 


TRANSKHENANE MEMOIRS. 


conversible people and anxious to please as 
much as lay in their power. Tobacco-pipes, 
beer, and anecdotes of the young prince, be¬ 
guiled the road until we approached the pretty 
hills amongst which rise the mineral springs 
of Baden. The Duke of Reichstadt is said 
to have formed a strong friendship with Don 
Miguel of Portugal—now studying constitu¬ 
tional principles under the tutelage of Prince 
Metternich. This communion of feeling be¬ 
tween Miguel and young Napoleon becomes 
interesting, when the probable future conduct 
of the one is compared to the late internal 
government of the father of the other. 

“ Lejeune Napoleon ”—as he is generally 
called on the Continent—was absent from 
Baden ; and I was compelled to rest con¬ 
tented with seeing the ladies and gentlemen 
swim about together in the great wells of hot 
mineral water—as they formerly did, or still 
do, at Bath in England. A walk through 
the beautiful valley of St. Helena—where, 
by a strange coincidence of name, the Arch¬ 
duke Charles, the early adversary of Napoleon, 
has lately erected a handsome palace—occupied 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


113 


the early part of the ensuing Sunday morn¬ 
ing :—excepting that portion of it which was 
spent in attending the summons of a bell 
suspended above the roof of a small chapel, 
built of mud and rough stones, within which 
had crowded a numerous and devout congre¬ 
gation of peasantry. 

The crowds which, on every holiday, the 
walls of Vienna pour forth into the surround¬ 
ing country, are indeed astonishing. Having 
dined with some hundreds of these lovers of 
rural scenes, I walked, for several miles, 
through the neat vineyards which cover the 
line of hills, and visited the bubbling torrent, 
the narrow ravine, the modern ruins, and the 
miniature rocks of Briilil. This valley, also* 
was crowded with visiters and carriages. 
After winding for some time amongst them, 
I leapt into a returning light Austrian 
waggon, and, in less than two hours, again 
found myself in the quiet street of Vienna. 


i 


114 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


SMOKING. 

This morning I passed through a street in 
which twelve or fifteen workmen were em¬ 
ployed in mending the pavement. Some were 
busied in sorting the stones, others in laying 
them down, others in carrying loose earth— 
all were employed in hard and fatiguing 
labour. But of all these fifteen workmen, 
there was not one from whose mouth was not 
suspended a long, heavy, wooden or earthen¬ 
ware tobacco-pipe from which issued columns 
of smoke that mingled with the flying clouds 
of dust which arose from beneath their feet! 
The tobacco-pipe is truly an utensil which a 
German can never lay aside : 

- immortale manet\ multosque per annos 

Stat fortuna domus. 

Each one feeds this portable fire with as much 
attention and assiduity, as was formerly given 
to that sacred flame, the conservation of which 
required the undiverted attention of the 
Vestal Virgins. 

The Germans are much admired for that 



TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 115 

forbearance, and love of knowledge, which, it 
is said, often make them pass fourteen hours 
of the day in study ; and it is asserted that no 
one but a German could possibly keep his 
mind to a task for so lono* a time. But our 

o 

wonder diminishes, when we learn that the 
tobacco-pipe is the inseparable companion of 
his studies; and that from it he inhales a 
constant supply of strength and courage. 
We are told that a horse is able to undergo 
an incredible degree of fatigue, when a piece 
of raw meat is fastened round the bit of his 
bridle. 

I hear of one of the most esteemed avocats 
in Vienna, who daily smokes thirty pipes. 
This person, that he may not be compelled to 
relinquish his enjoyment or his labour for even 
the few minutes that would be necessary to 
replenish his cup, is said to have thirty indi¬ 
vidual tobacco-pipes, which are, every morn¬ 
ing, prepared by his servants, and for each of 
which he calls in turn by its respective name— 
for he has christened them all. Thus when 
some continental sovereigns take the pleasures 
of the chase, they receive each gun ready 

i 2 


116 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


loaded from the hands of their attendants, and 
give themselves no further trouble than is ne¬ 
cessary to discharge its contents. Smoke, at 
least, follows in both cases. 


BEDS. 

“ The Germans sleep between two beds: 
“ and it is related that an Irish traveller, upon 
“ finding a feather-bed thus laid over him, 
“ took it into his head that the people slept in 
“ strata , one upon the other, and said to the 
“ attendant, ‘ Will you be good enough to tell 
“ ‘ the gentleman or lady that is to lie on 
“‘me, to make haste, as I want to go to 
“ ‘ sleep !’ ” 

So says the Editor of “ Tom Crib’s Memo- 
“ rial to Congress:” a work, of which all must 
admire the wit and ability, though many may 
censure it as too disrespectful to “ the powers 
“ that be/* But this feather-bed under which 
the Germans sleep, is not entirely peculiar to 
themselves: it is only a colossal imitation of 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 117 

those large cushions which are often found 
on Italian beds. 

t 

I must not, however, dismiss the question 
thus briefly: it is a homely subject, and I 
trust I shall find many to sympathise with me. 
Reader ! excuse the familiarity of my address, 
in favour of the good intentions which prompt 
it: Have you ever known the inconveniences 
of having bed-clothing too narrow to be tucked 
under , or, at least, to fall down and cover the 
edges of the mattrasses ? Unless you can 
resign yourselves to such beds, beware of 
visiting Germany. Oh, ye good housewives 
of England ! what would ye say, w r ere ye to 
behold these bedsteads, three feet and a half 
broad, on the mattrasses of which lies one 
sheet of the usual breadth, while the only 
covering prepared for the astonished traveller 
consists in what the French call a pique ,—a 
quilt lined with wool, enclosed in a moveable 
bag, like a pillow-case, and which, being 
scarcely ever as long as the bed, leaves an 
opening at the bottom for the feet to protrude 
beyond,—this the Germans think conducive 


118 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


to health: moreover, its breadth being exactly 
the same as that of the upper mattrass, it is 
unavoidably shaken off* by him who has not 
practised in his bed the stillness that awaits 
him in the grave ! Such is the covering used 
in Germany during summer. In winter it is 
exchanged for a sheet and the “ feather-bed/’ 
which, from the smallness of its dimensions, 
is equally ill calculated to afford warmth to 
him who tosses himself beneath it—wishing 
that he had the same power with which Italian 
polichinels are endowed—that of drawing in 
his legs, and, in some measure, jumping down 
his own throat. 

In contradiction to the statement of a late 
tourist, I must say that, excepting these pecu¬ 
liarities, the bedding and general furniture of 
the best German inns is as good as that met 
with in the hotels of France or England. 
Even in the smaller villages there are as neat 
bedrooms, and as good beds, as are met with 
in the more humble inns of France and Italy; 
nor are they, as is often the case in the latter 
countries, placed in recesses of dining-rooms, 



TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


119 


or in any other part of the inhabited house 
which can be most easily spared. A friend of 
mine, travelling through France during sum¬ 
mer, ordered his servant to wake him at six 
o’clock in the morning. When at that hour 
the man entered the bedroom, his master en¬ 
quired “ What sort of weather is it ?” The 
sleepy servant drew open what, in the dark, 
appeared to him a window-shutter, and replied 
‘ Monsieur , il ne fait 'point de terns ; et it 
f sent le fromage —Sir, there is no weather at 
* all $ and it smells of cheese.’ He had 
opened a waiter’s store cupboard. 

I am aware that all the preceding discussion 
on beds is neither sentimental nor heroic; 
but, as I before said, I trust in the sympathy 
of the reader. It was impossible that I could 
pass over in silence one of the most curious 
lines in the descriptive view of Germany, 
one which has so often been looked upon 
by me with desponding, shivering, sleepy 
anxiety. 


120 


TRANSRIIENANE MEMOIRS. 


EVENING. 


Quam jurat immites ventos audire cubantem , 

Et dominant tenero continuisse sinu ; 

Aut gelidas hibernus aquas quum fuderit Auster , 
Secnrum somnos , imbre juvante, sequi ! 

Who has not enjoyed the feeling which 
Tibullus so elegantly expresses in the two 
last lines ? Who has not acknowledged a 
delightful sentiment of grateful security, when 
quietly sleeping imbre juvante ? But, after 
having long suffered from the heat of the 
weather, how pleasant is it to be awakened 
during the night by the unexpected noise of 
a thunder-storm ! And while sitting at home 
all the following morning, how thankfully do 
we inhale the cool breezes that ruffle the leaves 
of the books which lie open before us 1 To¬ 
wards evening, however, I went out, and, 
crossing the stone bridge, turned to the left 
and advanced along the bank of the Danube. 

There is little commerce on this river. In 
Austria almost all importation is forbidden, 
and the country has few manufactures of 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


121 


goods for other markets. Did it run in the 
contrary direction, a great exportation of 
poultry and live stock might be carried on by 
means of the Danube : for the current is too 
rapid for boats to ascend it towards the north; 
and in the more southern countries to which 
it flows, provisions are cheaper than even in 
the districts of Austria and Hungary. 

What is this charm that attaches us to the 
side of running waters ? what is this charm, 
inherent to streams and rivers, which ever 
awakens such trains of reflection ? what is 
this charm that imperceptibly leads us on 
beside their rippling waves, and lulls us into 
a soothing and peaceful state of mind? The 
dead waters of a canal arouse not the same 
sentiments: even the curling waves of the 
ocean do not give to our thoughts the same 
quieting impulse. The waves of the sea excite 
more general, more extensive, perhaps more 
lofty reflections ; but they do not awaken 
those quiet, happy, homely associations which 
press the one upon the other as we observe a 
river’s placid current glide gently past us and 
advance towards its remote destination. 



12°2 ’ 


THANSItHENANE MEMOIRS. 


With these reflections, I gave way to a 
desultory train of half-formed wishes and 
ideas which pressed upon me while sitting 
on an elevated bank which overhung the 
Danube’s rapid stream. There was nothing 
striking or beautiful in the country around, 
and all the attributes inseparable from the 
“ sweet hour of twilight” were necessary to 
give it any interest; but at that peaceful 
time, what scenery is not lovely ! The place 
had no local beauties, had no prominent fea¬ 
tures, but yet every thing appeared so calm 
and pleasing! Close beside me, the silent 
stream, turning in gentle eddies, was gliding 
beneath the purple clouds of sun-set which 
still glittered bright upon its silvery surface, 
scarcely ruffled by the soft evening air that 
sighed across it. The deep-mouthed barking 
of the household dog, as he joyfully saluted 
the parting day, occasionally rose in the dis¬ 
tance, and blended with the unceasing hoarse 
and mournful croaking of the frogs that tenant 
the low marshy banks of the Danube. A 
herdsman, amidst his droves of grazing cattle, 
was winding his romantic horn, and thus 


TUANS 1111ENANE MEMOIRS. 1 <23 

soothing the idleness of his occupation, and 
the lot to which he was condemned ; for he 
still knows joy who loves music. A distant 
convent bell suddenly pealed out its mellow 
notes from amidst a shaded and now scarce 
seen wood, calming the feelings of the will¬ 
ing listener, and winging his thoughts to 
that heaven to which the inmates of the mo¬ 
nastery aspired. 

Meanwhile, darkness was gradually oversha¬ 
dowing the scenery ; the moon detached itself 
from the transparent pearl-coloured sky in which 
it hung; the stars timidly peeped forth from 
the deepening blue, and seemed afraid of 
showing their twinkling modest light; while 
the mimic waves of the river fluttered brightly 
towards the bank, and sank as soon as they had 
kissed the white pebbles which strewed it. 

My mu sings were interrupted by the soft 
melody of an approaching harp. Never did 
I hear music which pleased me more, so 
beautifully did it fall in with the sweet hour 
and scenery around. I arose from my grassy 
seat, and, through the fading twilight, distin¬ 
guished two men who seemed to be heedlessly 


124 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


strolling along the bank of the river, like 
myself, wrapped in the feelings to which the 
evening hour gave rise; while the taller and 
elder of the two threw his fingers with appa¬ 
rent carelessness over the sweetly-sounding 
instrument that he carried suspended around 
his neck. The shorter and younger looking 
held a guitar in the attitude of one who had 
lately been playing on its chords, though his 
eyes and whole attention were now riveted 
upon the countenance of his companion. 

Without observing me, they seated them¬ 
selves upon the opposite side of the bank on 
which I was standing, and after remaining a 
few moments in silence, I was surprised to hear 
the sweet boyish voice of the younger address 
his comrade in the well-known language of 
Italy. I instantly drew near, and spoke to 
them ; nor was it without a feeling of regret, 
that I checked the joy with which they hailed 
me as a countryman, by saying that almost 
affectionate admiration of their native land 
was the only link that bound me to Italy. 
They, however, freely entered into conversa¬ 
tion : the pleasure of speaking of their 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 1 £5 

country to one who well knew and admired it, 
appeared to carry them on and banish all 
restraint. Never had I seen two more inte¬ 
resting countenances than were now shown to 
me by the bright reflection of the moon upon 
the dark, manly features of the elder man, 
and on the more delicate outlines of his 
younger companion; who, though he took 
little part in the conversation, could not but 
excite interest by something peculiar in the 
manner in which he softly addressed “ Giulio,” 
while his fine black eyes darted calmly around, 
and seemed to drink in the soothing stillness 
of the lovely hour, 

“ Is that your brother?” I at length en¬ 
quired of Giulio. Yes,”*..he replied with 

something of a hesitating manner, which he 
suddenly changed into a lively frankness as he 
added, “ No, pardon me ; she is my wife.” 
His young companion started, and cast upon 
him a supplicating bashful look, “ I under- 
" stand you, my Francescahe mildly re¬ 
plied: “ but after the kind manner in which 
“ this gentleman has spoken, any unworthy 
** doubt on our part would be misplaced and 



126 TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 

“ ungenerous. Our history, sir,” he conti¬ 
nued, “ is not long, and after the interest 
“ which you have shown in our fate, and that 
i% of our country, I do not doubt but that you 
“ would hear it with pleasure.” 

The gentle figure at his side silently pressed 
the hand which hung over the frame of his 
harp, while he began his relation in the follow¬ 
ing terms. 


HISTORY OF GIULIO AND 
FRANCESCA. 

<c After the late King of Naples had been 
“ obliged to fly from his kingdom before the 
“ troops of France, my father was sent as a 
“ sous-officier to the victorious army. He 
“ was quartered at Naples; married a Neapo- 
“ litan young lady; and when I was ten years 
“ old, was killed in an engagement with the 
“ returning partisans of Ferdinand. My 
“ mother did not long survive him, and I was 
“ left destitute and friendless in the world. I 
* * was entered at the great charitable establish- 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. IT/ 

u raent called the Albergo de'Povert.* From 
“ my mother I had imbibed a taste for music, 
“ which, according to the system of the in- 
Ci stitution, was cultivated'; and in a few years 
“ I became proficient in my art. Nor did I 
“ neglect the literary acquirements which the 
“ taste of some of my companions in the 
t€ Albergo had chosen. The revolution of 
(( 1821 broke out. I hailed it with joy. 

Quitting my charitable retreat, I spoke and 
“ wrote vehemently in favour of its principles: 
“ a small place was given me under the con- 
“ stitutional government. 

<c At this period I became acquainted with 
“ Francesca. I loved her; she received my 
“ attentions and returned my love. Her 
“ family consented to our union. The day to 
“ which we both looked forward so anxiously 
“ was fixed, when the counter-revolution was 
“ effected by the intervention of Austria. 

“ So much had I distinguished myself as 
“ an advocate of liberal principles, that I was 
“ no longer in safety at Naples, and was com- 
“ pelled to flee my country. For my main- 
* See <( Transalpine Memoirs,” vol. i. page 211. 


I‘28 TRANSRIIENANE MEMOIRS. 

“ tenance during the former part of my life, 
“ I had been indebted to the charitable insti- 
“ tution in which I had been brought up, and 
“ which I had only left to occupy the preca- 
“ rious, but more honourable and lucrative 
“ post which the constitutional government 
“ had assigned me. I now, therefore, found 
“ myself perfectly destitute, with no other 
“ means of procuring a livelihood during the 
“ long exile to which I was about to be con- 
“ demned, than my harp might afford. How 
“ warmly, then, did I congratulate myself on 
“ having cultivated the musical talent which 
“ nature had bestowed upon me ! 

“ No time was to be lost: the bloodhounds 
“ were already tracking my steps. I will not 
“ endeavour to describe the anguish with 
“ which I prepared to take a last farewell of 
“my beloved Francesca: nor will I attempt 
“ to paint the mingled sentiments with which 
“ I listened to her heroic determination. In 
“ vain did I oppose it: in vain did I number 
“ up the horrors that probably awaited my 
“ exiled, wandering existence: every argument 
“ but confirmed her in her daring resolution. 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


12Q 


“ She fled secretly from her parent’s house : 
c< those parents—nor could my reason have 
“ blamed them—would never have consented 
“ to her becoming the wife of one who was 
“ then but a persecuted, exiled beggar. We 
“ were privately united, and succeeded in 
41 escaping from the kingdom. 

“ My harp, and the guitar of my self- 
“ sacrificed partner, were now our only 
“ resource : and with them we were enabled 
“ to gain a humble and, I may so call it, a 
“ certain existence. To myself, who had 
“ been long used to the Albergo de 9 Poverty 
“ the change was not so great; but my 

“ Francesca.how tenderly did I fear lest 

“ she should repent her of her romantic 
“ courage! 

“ Obliged to mingle occasionally with other 
“ wandering musicians, and expose ourselves 
“ to the rude gaze of the world, her beauty 
“ attracted general observation. I could not 
“ bare it: I was miserable. My dear Fran- 
“ cesca read my feelings: she formed her 
“ plans; and privately selling her scanty 
“ wardrobe, she purchased a suit of male 

K 



130 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


“ attire, and then showing herself to me, 

* i declared her intention of thenceforward 
“ passing herself upon the world as my 
“ brother. Judge if I withheld my consent! 

C9 Since then we have continued to wander 
“ from province to province: our musical 
65 talents procure us a scanty maintenance. 
“ We are independent. We are certain of 

“ each other’s unaltered affection.we are 

u happy.”—‘ Oh yes, we are happy,’ exclaimed 
the disguised female: ‘ Oh yes, we are happy/ 
she earnestly repeated as a tear stole from her 
large black eye. She hid her face upon the 
bosom of her husband, and wept a few tears 
of heartfelt affection, which I envied. Yes : 
never have I looked upon smiling, successful 
happiness with those sentiments of envy with 
which I beheld this unartful demonstration of 
the pure, affectionate contentment of Giulio 
and Francesca. 

With these feelings I reluctantly took my 
leave of them, and slowly returned to the 
Hotel de Londres . 



CHAPTER VIII. 


So on I ramble, now and then narrating 1 , 

Now pondering:—it is time we should narrate; 

I left Don Juan with his horses baiting— 

Now we’ll get o’er the ground at a great rate. 

I shall not be particular in stating 

His journey, we’ve so many tours of late; 
Suppose him then at Petersburgh; suppose 
That pleasant capital of painted snows. 

Don Juan. Canto IX. 


On showing the printed permission to 
leave Vienna, which I had received from the 
police together with my passport, I was allowed 
to engage a place in the mail to Prague! 

It was ten o’clock at night when I got into 
it. The rain was falling fast, but it was not 
until the coach had left the town that I per¬ 
ceived how stormy and threatening was the 
aspect of the heavens. A huge dark cloud 
hung directly over us, and its shaggy sides, 

k 2 




132 


TRANSRIIENANE MEMOIRS. 


descending almost to the horizon, left only a 
small opening through which appeared the 
wide expanse of pale, gray, sad sky,—as the 
wretch who, overwhelmed by an immediate 
pressing misfortune, should only be able to 
escape from it into a dreary futurity of un¬ 
varied misery. The wooden planks which 
formed the bridges across the Danube, re¬ 
sounded beneath the dull tramp of our horses’ 
feet. The lantern suspended in front of the 
carriage, cast a pale indistinct hue on the 
surface of the stream, while the nearer objects 
received more varied and stronger tints from 
its bright light. I here again noticed what I 
have often elsewhere remarked—how beau¬ 
tifully bland are the tints which, on a dark 
night, the light of a torch throws over the 
thick foliage of a tree ! The wind was now 
very high ; and the slim branches of the 
willows that cover the flat banks of the islands 
in the Danube, waved to and fro in the blast; 
—now glittering in the light of the lamp, 
and now suddenly disappearing in the dark¬ 
ness from which their pale leaves had momen¬ 
tarily sprung out; now soaring high in the 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


133 


air, and now bent into the stream which flowed 
beneath, until, rising again with a sudden 
bound, they cast upon the wind the glittering 
drop that had adhered to the loose leaves of 
their slender twigs. The immense bridge 
across the various branches and islands of the 
river was, at length, crossed ; and looking a 
last farewell to the mighty Danube, I entered 
upon the plain of Bohemia. 

Who were my travelling companions? I 
had immediately found out from one of them 
that he was a Saxon Baron, now returning 
to his country after a long residence in Italy. 
My two other fellow-travellers—a man and a 
woman—preserved an unbroken silence, and 
it was some time before I discovered that I 
was in company with two compatriots. What 
I was able to learn and guess of their condi¬ 
tion and their motives for travelling is tocr 
curious to be passed over in silence. It was 
amusing to see the surprise of the Saxon 
when—after much probing and a strict cross- 
examination, which English taciturnity or 
rather non-communicativeness rendered ne¬ 
cessary—he learned that they had left London 


13 i 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


only six weeks before; had landed at Arn- 
heitn ; had travelled through Francfort to 
Darmstadt, Stuttgard, Ulm, Munich, Passau; 
had then descended the Danube to Vienna j 
and were now on their way to Dresden and 
Berlin, with the intention of hastening from 
thence, through Leipzig and Cassel, to em¬ 
bark at Ostend and return to England ! Six 
weeks only had passed since they had left 
London, and in six weeks more they intended 
to have performed the whole of their immense 
journey! 

“ Can you deny,” said the Baron to me, 
“ that the English are mad ? Here are two 
“ people, a brother and sister, to whom every 
“Jlorin they spend is evidently an object of 
“ calculation, but who have left their country 
“ to traverse, as fast as the coaches can carry 
“ them, foreign nations of which they scarcely 
“ understand the language ! Are not the 
“ English incontestibly mad ?” 

What could I answer to an appeal backed 
by such argument? I desired him, never¬ 
theless, to defer his judgment, as, perhaps, 
we might hereafter and by dint of probing. 


TRANSRIIENANE MEMOIRS. 


1S5 


find out that these, my two country-people, 
had some rational motive for their apparently 
irrational journey. And so it was: for, from 
his passport, it was discovered that the gen¬ 
tleman was an “ etudient en musique ;” while 
a few half-spoken words, and the general turn 
of her conversation, led us to conclude that 
his sister was travelling in search of informa¬ 
tion in the same harmonious line. But so it 
ever is,—from one motive or another, there is 

“ no earthly place 

“ Where we can rest in dreams elysian, 

“ Without some cursed, round, English face 
“ Popping up near us to break the vision.” 

Though I had not anticipated many 
“ dreams elysian” amongst the corn-covered 
hills of Bohemia, yet I had certainly expected 
to find them “ free from London kind.” 


PRAG. 

To describe Prague, I need only mention 
its characteristic feature, and may leave the 
details to be supplied by the imagination of 


1 36 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


the historical reader : Prague is an old town. 
He who knows that it has once been the 
capital of an independent German kingdom, 
as it is now the capital of a subject one, will 
easily understand the idea I would wish to 
convey by that denomination: an old town, 
with some large strong-built houses, with 
ancient massive gateways, with churches of an 
elegant gothic archtiecture, often disfigured 
by portions added in later days, and intermixed 
with newly-erected imperial public offices— 
such is Prague. 

Crossing the long and handsome bridge, I 
passed through several streets, the names of 
which are inscribed in the German and Bohe¬ 
mian languages, and ascended to the top of 
the hill, on which stands the palace. This is 
a large conglobation of irregular buildings 
divided into several courts, and containing 
within its precincts the royal apartments, the 
archbishoprick, the cathedral church of the 
town, and a monastery. In the cathedral 
are the tombs of all the ancient princes of 
Bohemia, whose grim armour-clad statues 
recall to the traveller the gloomy annals of 


TRANSRIIENANE MEMOIRS. 


137 


barbarous and forgotten times. In mingled 
German, French, Italian, and Latin, the 
sacristain recounted to me some of the dark 
deeds of these unknown chieftains. A good 
field this would he for the gleanings of a writer 
of wild historical romance. 

In this cathedral the body of St. John 
Nepomucen is interred with the following 
epitaph : “ Under this stone lies the body of 
“ the most venerable and most glorious Thau- 

maturgus, John Nepomucen, doctor, 
“ canon of this church, and confessor of the 
“ empress; who, because he had faithfully kept 
“ the seal of confession, was cruelly tormented, 
“ and thrown from the bridge of Prague into 
«« the river Muldaw, by the orders of Wences- 
“ las IV. Emperor and King of Bohemia, 
€i son of Charles IV. 1383. 

I insert this inscription for the information 
of some whom I have heard scoff at the statues 
-and other images of this great man. Had 
similar circumstances accompanied the death 
of any personage of the Roman history, the 
same travellers would have revered as a hero 
him whom they now despise as a Catholic 


138 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


Saint. Why should he who admires Regulus 
sacrificing himself rather than act contrary 
to his oath to the Carthaginians, withhold his 
approbation from John Nepomucen, dying 
rather than break his solemn engagements to 
his God and his fellow men.* 

On the front of the monastery which I have 
mentioned as standing in the court of the 
palace, is the following inscription: 

Maria Theresia , Pia , Felix , Augusta, 
Post tranquillilatem pariter domi Jorisque 
assertam, sacras has cedes ad majorem 
Dei gloriam , divini cultus incrementum , 
nobilitatis solatium , fieri fecit et regali 
sumptu do tacit. A. O R> MDCCLV. 

* “ In the sacrament of penance, so indispensable is the 
law of secrecy, and so far does it extend, and the Minister is 
bound, by all laws, so much to be upon his guard in this 
respect, that he may say with St. Augustin, * quce per con- 
1 fessionem scio minus scio quam quce nescio —what I know 
‘ by confession, I know less than what I do not know at 
‘ all.* Without this indispensable secrecy, the very precept 
and obligation cease. And this law is expedient also to the 
public weal; for by it the Minister will often draw sinners 
from dangerous designs which otherwise would never have 
come to his knowledge; as F. Coton shewed to the entire 
satisfaction of Henry IV. of Fiance.”—See Butler’s “ Lives 
“ of the Saints,” vol. v. 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 139 

I entered the chapel: it is a small ordinary 
building. Here I unexpectedly found a young 
English traveller of my acquaintance : we had 
formerly, for some months, been fellow- 
students at Stoneyhurst college, and I had 
since occasionally seen him on the Continent. 
It was with mutual pleasure that we now met. 

On leaving the chapel, he gazed at the 
above mentioned inscription. <l Nobilitatis 
“ solaiiam” he repeated, “ I am afraid that 
“ Maria Theresa’s opinion of the wants of 
“ her nobility would not be maintained at the 
“ present day: but, perhaps, she merely 
“ declared it with something of a political, 
“ alluring, jesuitical intention. And many 
“ would charitably lend her such a motive, on 
“ observing that she has introduced in her in- 
“ scription the famous motto of our old 
“ friends, the Jesuits —ad majorem Dei glo- 
“ riam .” 

“ I had read this inscription,” he continued, 
“ before you met me in the chapel, where, in 
“ one short quarter of an hour, I had mused 
“ away a dozen years in the thoughts of auld 
“ lang syne which it had suggested. A. M. 


140 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


“ D. G.—how often have I written those four 
“ letters above the Latin themes and exercises 
“ of former days: when, an inmate ofStony- 
“ hurst college, I passed one year amidst the 
“ restraints and pleasures which render the 
“ life of a schoolboy so happy, and at the 
“ same time so wretched! You, who know 
“ my mind and feelings, will understand this 
“ wandering of thought; you will participate 
“ in the, to me, delicious reverie in which I 
“ gave way to all the recollections awakened 
“ within me ; in which I dived into the past, 

“ endeavouring to unite the severed and half- ‘ 
“ forgotten links of memory’s chain, until it 
“ presents a perfect clew, which, conducting 
“ me from that careless play-ground where it 
“ can only recal those petty recollections and 
“ trifling images which become so dear to us 
“ in after life, leads into years in which it 
“ ought to have shone with the brightness of 
“ happiness, and to the greater portion of 
“ which I still look back with soothed grati- 
“ tude; and embracing in its circuit different 
“ nations and different people, at length con- 
“ ducts me....to the door of a Bohemian 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


14L 


“ monastery! And here I again find these 
“ four letters, A. M. D. G ! and here, then— 
“ without in any way declaring myself a 
“ partisan of my early instructors, the Jesuits; 
“ still less so, of the sense to which they are 
“ accused of having distorted them—I again 
“ repeat the initials of their motto : not with 
“ the thoughtlessness of childhood, but by 
“ reflection, comparison, and investigation, 
“ enabled to appreciate their force, and to 
“ trust in the sentiments they contain.” 

The employment of my unoccupied travel¬ 
ling moments being, as I before stated, my 
only object in writing these papers— 

“ A bubble, not blown up for praise, 

' “ But just to play with, as an infant plays”— 

I have freely written down the preceding 
sentiments, and indulged in the thoughts 
which my friend’s reverie brought home to 
myself. A heartfelt grasp of the hand was 
the only answer I was then able to give him $ 
and soon after we parted: he to spend some 
weeks in wandering through the Hartz moun¬ 
tains, while I should proceed to study German 
at Dresden. 






TRANSIiHENANE MEMOIRS. 


142 


EVENING WALKS. 

* 

I had agreed to take a walk in the evening 
with the Saxon Baron and another fellow- 
traveller, a Prussian. We left our hotel at 
five o’clock, and were carried by the ferry¬ 
boat into the two small islands—called, I 
believe, “ great and little Venice”—which 
rise in the shallow bed of the Muklavv. They 
are planted with thick-grown chesnut trees, 
under which were placed many a table for the 
accommodation of those who might fly for 
refreshment to these otherwise-sequestered 
spots. On the facade of a handsome building 
was the imposing inscription, “ Nobis et 
“ Posteritati on the wall below was an 
handbill intimating “ to the friends of music 
“ and dancing,” that a reunion would be 
holden there on every Sunday following ; ad¬ 
mittance twenty kreutzers , eight-pence. 

We again sought the ferry-boat, and were 
transported to the opposite bank of the river* 
A narrow walk through a fruit garden led us 
up a rapid ascent to the front of a neat 


TRANSRIIENANE MEMOIRS. 


143 


house. The clouds that had remained dark 
and lowering since our departure from Vienna, 
now sent down a heavy shower of rain. 

“ Kellner! bring a bottle of beer and a 
“ light. Shall I offer you a segar, Sir?” 
This order and offer were spoken the very 
instant we had entered a common sitting:- 
room ; and a few moments afterwards, I was 
seated by an open window sipping my liquor 
and “ blowing clouds ”* 1 with all the calmness 
and solemnity of a veteran amateur. “ Now,” 
said the Baron, “ we are all three good Ger- 
“ mans, and enjoy a pleasure in which I was 
“ unable to indulge in Italy. Nevertheless, 
“ I must owm that I did not regret it, when I 
“ strolled on the bank of the Arno at Elo- 
u rence, and took my evening ice at the 
“ thronged door of the caffe*” He then 
entered upon a long panegyric of his “ dear 
“ Italy,” of which he seemed to be as great 
an admirer as the Prussian was of the beer. 

* I employ this expression on the authority of a work 
I have already quoted, the editor of which says that it 
means “ to smoke a pipe,” and that it is a highly poetical 
phrase, and explains what Homer meant by the epithet 

yspshyysgtTyr. 





I4>li TRANSRIIENANE MEMOIRS. 

Two hours passed away before I could pre¬ 
vail upon them to return to the town. 

We supped on pheasants and sauerkraut ;— 
they drank more beer ; and, declining the 
segar that was again offered me, I retired to 
my room, certain that I was in Germany ! 

On the following evening we walked in an 
opposite direction; and passing before a little, 
smoky, dusty, almost underground room filled 
with peasants, who were waltzing to the music 
of a very excellent band,—we entered the 
Baum-Garten. This is a pretty drive near 
the town. At this season, few of the Bo¬ 
hemian noblesse are in Prague, but I saw one 
handsome four-in-hand equipage, the driver of 
which I strongly suspected of having taken 
lessons in his art in England. The evening 
was cool and pleasant. Numbers of men and 
women were drinking beer or milk under the 
trees: of course no man was without his 
tobacco-pipe. 

“ The lover now, beneath the western star, 

“ Sighs through the medium of his sweet segar, 

“ And fills the ears of some consenting she 
“ With puffs and vows, with smoke and constancy 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


145 


I was amused to think how perfectly these 
lines, in one of Moore’s beautiful epistles 
from America, applied to the scene before me. 
But I doubt whether lover’s sighs in the city 
of Washington are accompanied by as good 
musicians—the musicians of Prague are famous 
even in Germany—as were here performing . 
the finest parts of the best Italian and French 
operas. From what I can judge of their 
manners and characters, it is in this sort of 
sleepy sensuality that the Germans seem most 
to delight. I should suppose that, with a 
pipe in his mouth and a pot of beer at his 
side, a German would, with unchangeable 
equanimity, defy any stroke of fate and 
any change of fortune;—whether for the 
better or the worse, could little interest 
one steeped in these tempering, deadening 
preservatives. 


BOHEMIAN MAILS. 

I had been detained two days at Prague, 
as the coaches—monopolised, as usual, by 


L 


146 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


government—do not pass more than three 
times a week between Vienna and Dresden. 

To an Englishman, the epithet “ Snail- 
“ wagon”* seems to holdout a promise of 
very moderately-swift travelling : but I must 
beg leave to remark, once for all, that wagon 
is German for carriage , and snail for quick ! 

The Austrian post-horses and their harness 
are excellent, compared with those of France: 
but considering that they carry no baggage— 
for all trunks are sent by a different con¬ 
veyance—they advance but at a slow rate. 
In Germany the roads, also, are much better 
than in France ; and we are amused by find¬ 
ing here the original, the primitive toll-bar. 
In England, though we still keep the ancient 
term, we have erected gates in lieu of that 
which it represents: in Germany, an immense 
bar, the smoothed painted trunk of a pine 
tree, still rises and falls across the road by 
means of a weight placed at one end of it. 
When the scJmellwagens arrive at the summits 
of the different descents, a traveller, used only 
to English coaches and coachmen, would smile 

* According to the usual vocabulary, Schnellwagen. 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 147 

to see these postillions jump suddenly from 
their saddles, lock the wheels of the vehicles, 
and, as their horses descend the steep hills 
at a hard trot, run at full speed beside them, 
their whips flourishing to and fro above their 
heads, their trumpets dangling loose at their 
sides, and their tobacco-pipes swinging at their 
mouths, like the pendulum of a clock, and 
sending up thick fumes of smoke over the 
large cocked hats which, bound with broad 
white tape, completely overshadow their gay 
scarlet jackets! 

At such times, the schnellwagen would be 
well suited to the pencil of an English drawer 
of caricatures. But the scenes of our cari¬ 
catures are always laid in France: and, in 
truth, the French nation may justly sit for 
the greater part of the Continent, on which 
they have stamped their own features. Cari¬ 
catures of England present entirely different 
shades ; they require outlines exclusively their 
own:—and these, be it said, are in no way 

4 

less amusing than those of their neighbours. 
But the beau ideal of caricatures of England 
is contained in that self-chosen epithet John 

l 2 







ns 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


Bull. If my reader is one of those who pride 
themselves on being “ true John Bulls,” he 
does not stand in need of an explanation of 
the term : should he not be one of that self- 
satisfied class, I refer him to the pleasing and 
clever disquisition held, by the able writer of 
the “ Sketch Book,” on the merits and de¬ 
merits of John Bull. 


TOPLITZ. 

Toplitz is finely situated. The gardens of 
Prince Clary, which he liberally opens to the 
public, are very pretty and interesting: indeed, 
I have seen few more pleasant. Here, there 
is a salon cle reunion , in which is a table 
d 9 hoteSy frequented by the most fashionable 
visiters of the baths: at this table, wild-duck 
and chevreuil formed part of an excellent 
dinner for which I was charged one shilling ! 
A good band always performs in the gallery 
above, and attends again in the evening, when 
the company dance. 

This excess, as some might call it, of music. 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 149 

is one of the features of Germany which most 
please me. Some tourist relates that a monk 
told him he found the singing of vespers a 
great help to digestion. En passant , I must 
protest against the uncharitable feeling which 
would take for granted that that was the only 
charm this person found in the performance 
of a religious duty. But as I do not pretend 
to assert that all monks are so purely spiritual 
as not to congratulate themselves on deriving 
some advantage from this union of prayer and 
digestion, I will not refuse to enforce my own 
sentiments by the opinion of this holy bon 
vivant. Reversing, therefore, the tables, I 
own that, in this custom of introducing music 
during meals, I also love the mixture of the 
spiritual with the sensual enjoyment:—and 
Paley tells us that in eating consists by no 
means a small portion of animal happiness. 
Who does not receive his food with additional 
satisfaction, when the movement of the hand 
that conveys it to the mouth is unconsciously 
quickened, according to the lively bursts of 
the opera buffa , or loiters in the tender strains 
of the opera seria ?—or still more so, when 


150 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


the sensual yielding completely to the 
spiritual enjoyment, it pauses in patriotic 
rapture, and forgets its present business to 
beat time to that pretty English air which 
those two German harps are even now bringing 
back to my remembrance, while the endear¬ 
ment it acquires from distance, and the asso¬ 
ciations it awakens, throw me into a calm 
reverie, in which the faults and mistakes of the 
performers are totally unheeded: 

“ Oli Music! here, even here, 

“ Amidst this thoughtless, wild career, 

“ Thy soul-felt charm asserts its wondrous power. 

“ There is an air which oft among the rocks 

“ Of his own loved land, at evening hour, 

“Is heard, when shepherds homeward pipe their 
flocks ; 

“ Oh! every note of it would thrill his mind 

“ With tenderest thoughts—would bring around his 
knees 

“ Tlie rosy children whom he left behind, 

“ And fill each little angel eye 
“ With speaking tears, that ask him why 
“ He wander’d from his hut for scenes like these! 

“ Vain, vain is then the trumpet’s brazen roar; 

“ Sweet notes of home—of love—are all he hears; 

“ And the stern eyes, that looked for blood before, * 
“ Now melting, mournful, lose themselves in tears!” 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 151 

Such were the reflections aroused last night 
by the two harps that played in the supper- 
room of my hotel: and altering “ the trum- 
“ pet’s brazen roar” into the restaurateur's 
bill of fare—the mention of “ blood” still 
remaining particularly apt—I delighted to 
bring home to myself the sentiments which 
I have ventured to transcribe at full length. 

I do not fear being blamed for so often 
quoting Moore : all will be glad to read again 
the passages which I have thus again presented 
to them. Galignani’s edition of Mr. Moore’s 
poetical works is one of my constant compa¬ 
nions on this journey ; and I own with grati¬ 
tude that, for some of the pleasantest moments 
I have enjoyed on a pleasant tour, I am in¬ 
debted to this patriotic, this unprejudiced, 
this tender Muse of one of the first of our 
poets. 

And Byron—the much-sinning but much- 
sinned-against Byron ? I am almost afraid 
that I shall be blamed for heading these 
chapters with extracts from his Don Juan: 
but is any fault found with the sentiments 
contained in the extracts themselves? Surely 







1 52 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


lie who quotes is answerable but for the mean¬ 
ing conveyed in those words only which he 
detaches from other works? 1 do not pretend 
to approve of, or in any way to excuse, many of 
the sentiments conveyed in Don Juan : but I 
fear that it contains the history of the feelings 
of most men of the world, and therefore neces¬ 
sarily exhibits much that is bad mixed up with 
much that is excellent,—hence every reader of 
the poem seeks that which is most consonant 
to his own character. If the book were to be 
considered as showing a true picture of the 
feelings of its writer, I am convinced that, on 
every well-disposed mind, its effect would be 
salutary ; and that such a mind would retire 
from studying it, fully convinced that, in the 
author’s own words, 

“ There is no sterner moralist than pleasure.” 

Whether or not such works are suited for 
general circulation, is a far different question. 

My reveries at the supper-table were inter¬ 
rupted in the following manner:—“ Kellner!” 
cried an English traveller, in his appearance a 
very gentlemanly young man, “ Kellner , what 


TRANSItHENANE MEM 01 RS. 


1 53 


44 does my supper cost?” ‘The two veal 
4 cuttlets fivepence, and the roast fowl seven- 
pence-halfpenny.’ *“ But I shall not pay 
44 the latter charge: I ordered only half a 
44 fowl.” 4 It is very true, Sir/ 44 Well, 
44 then, what is to be done?” ‘ Why....it is 

4 not dear : sevenpence-halfpenny is not 
‘much......’ “No; but the bringing me 

“ twice as much as I ordered seems to me a 
44 sort of trickery— fourberie” 

This conversation was carried on, by both 
parties, in bad French ; and it was laughable 
to see the smile that played, not without 
cause, on the grave features of the waiter. 
Such are the subjects which often arouse the 
indignation of Englishmen against 44 rascally, 
44 cheating foreignersand a gentleman 
who, for the sole gratification of his curiosity, 
consents to incur the expense of travelling 
all over Europe, is not ashamed of discussing 
such a question as that I have just mentioned, 
and, on such grounds, of accusing a foreign 
innkeeper of 44 trickery !” Would the per¬ 
son of whom I am speaking have done so in 
his own country ? No; and were English- 



154 . 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


men to conduct themselves abroad as they do 
in tlieir own country , it would, in many 
cases, be more to their individual and na¬ 
tional credit. 


CHAPTER IX. 


The other father had a weaklier child, 

Of a soft cheek and aspect delicate : 

But the boy bore up long 1 , and with a mild 
And patient spirit held aloof his fate : 

Little he said, and now and then he smiled, 

As if to win a part from off the weight 
He saw increasing on his father’s heart. 

With the deep deadly thought that they must part. 

Don Juan. Canto II. 


Dresden is called the Florence of 
Germany. The epithet is a just one: it is 
the Florence. of Germany. 

The Elbe, though here small and shallow, 
winds prettily past the town : and the raised 
terrace which forms its western bank, is one 
of the most pleasantly-situated walks that are 
any where to be met with. The bridge 
stretches gracefully across the shining stream, 





156 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


as it flows through the area of the amphi¬ 
theatre, formed, on one side, by the massive 
buildings of the palace and the Catholic 
church, on the other side by the green, 
wooded bills which border the plain beyond 
the suburb of Neustadt. 

The town itself possesses no buildings of 
imposing architecture. The walls of most of 
the houses are overlaid with plaster, to which 
the dampness of the climate gives a very sad¬ 
dening aspect. In the greater number of 
German towns, government interferes and 
secures a periodical washing and painting of 
the houses ; but at Dresden this is not the 
case. I have heard a Prussian account for 
the dreary appearance of the buildings by 
saying that there were, in the town, a great 
number of savants and antiquarians, who were 
anxious to see, even on their own houses, 
the revered characters of genuine antiques. 

The Sovereign’s palace is an immense 
assemblage of irregular buildings, and forms 
about one twentieth part of this little capital. 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


157 


FREDERIC AUGUSTUS. 

The late king, Frederic Augustus, was an 
admirer of the good olden times, and enforced, 
even in his own family, the observance of 
their wholsome customs. He was not like 
William the Third of Prussia, who, on the 
coins issued during his youth, appeared in a 
long wig and dress d la Louis XIV . but who 
now stands forth with cropped jacobinic curls, 
and the simple uniform of a modern officer: 
no ! Frederic Augustus was incapable of such 
base desertion of the ways of old ! Until the 
hour of his death, he wore a well-tied, well- 
powdered queue, and insisted that his younger 
brothers should appear in the same guise. 
He expired a few months ago; and Anthony, 
the present sovereign, turning round to his 
brother, is said to have exclaimed, “ Now, 
“ Maximilian, we may cut off our queues!” 

Certain it is, that about this time the appen¬ 
dage ceased to appear with reverend stiffness 
above the collars of their coats. 



158 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


THE PICTURE-GALLERY. 

Most tourists describe Raphael’s Madonna 
di San Sis to as being the principal ornament 
of this gallery, and a chef d'oeuvre of the art 
that created- it. Dare I differ from their 
opinions? Dare I risk incurring the repro¬ 
bation of critics who only know the picture 
from the flattering descriptions of its votaries? 
This is a question which well deserves the 
serious consideration of an author who would 
not rashly commit himself. 

Adam Smith declares that (< man is a bar- 
“ tering animal.” It has been asserted that, 
when a political personage represents himself 
as belonging to no party, he means to say 
that he is ready to sell himself to the highest 
bidder. If a similar mode of reasoning is to 
actuate all negociations, I ought now duly to 
consider whether I am likely to obtain more 
favour with the public by praising, than by 
blaming, this work of Raphael. 

The question docs not admit of a serious 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 159 

doubt. We cling to our prejudices : we have 
in us an innate sentiment of benevolence for 
all that is in itself beautiful; and this senti¬ 
ment makes us love to multiply, eVen in our 
imaginations, the number of those objects 
which we conceive to be deserving of our 
praise. Self-love may, as La Rochefoucault 
asserts, be the source from whence spring all 
our actions; but it is not the ground-work of 
our natures. Mankind is, naturally, virtuous, 
generous, and attached to all that is worthy 
of attachment : it is only when these purer 
impulses are opposed to what we fancy to be 
our interest, that we abandon them for less 
worthy sentiments. 

The public will, therefore, be more gratified 
by the praise I may bestow upon this well- 
known painting, than by any thing I may say 
to lessen it in its estimation. But having 
been so ill-judged as to declare that, through¬ 
out these pages, I would not conceal my real 
sentiments, I am placed in an awkward 
dilemma, and I fear that the path of honour 
is now, as is too often the case, opposed to 
that of interest. 


160 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


Lord Chesterfield tells his son that, when 
he visits the Opera-house, he must leave his 
common sense with his half-guinea at the door. 

This plan must, it is w r ell known, be adopted 
by those who enter a gallery of Italian paint¬ 
ings, in which, besides other anachronisms, 
the heaven, the earth, and the hell, both oi 
ancient Paganism and of Christianity, are 
often found within the same frame—as in 
Michael Angelo’s famous Last Judgment. 
The Madonna di San Sisto must not, there¬ 
fore, be objected to on the ground that its 
composition violates the dictates of common 
sense—that is, of nature. An artist who had 
been engaged to paint, for the chapel of one 
of the colleges of Oxford, a Resurrection from 
the Dead, represented all his personages 
“ without even a relic of drapery round them,” 
and defended himself by saying that he did 
not know of what manufacture and cut would 
be the clothes in which human bodies would 
rise from their graves at the last day. This 
rational, matter-of-fact painter would certainly 
have objected to the handsome drapery in 
which Raphael has enveloped the figures of 




TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. lGl 

all the personages, except the two little hea¬ 
venly angels, and the infant Jesus, who are 
represented according to the systematic nudity 
of his own argument. This is, amusingly 
enough, the case in all pictures of Madonnas : 
howsoever well dressed the mother may be, 
the child is always naked. But these obser¬ 
vations are merely made en passant , without 
more importance being attached to them than 
they, in reality, deserve. 

I believe the painting in question to be 
admired for the very abstracted expression of 
the mother, and for the very thoughtful, but 
also very manly, surly frown that overshadows 
the mimic features of the infant, as it reclines 
in the arms of its absorbed and absent parent, 
who seems not even aware of its presence. 
Nor is the posture of the infant more suited 
to its years : with its left hand it grasps the 
instep of its right leg, which it has rested 
upon its left knee,—a common attitude with 
elderly men. 

The Oxford artist, to whom I have alluded 
above, would, probably, have objected to an 
absufd kind of anachronism which runs 


M 


162 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


through most of these paintings. The scene 
of the Madonna di San Sisto lies in heaven: 
both the Blessed Virgin and her Son are, 
therefore, released from those properties of 
mortality in which the one deigned to submit 
himself to the other. How, then, can our 
Saviour be here represented as a child in the 
arms of his mother ? If he still wears the 
form of a man, it is in that full-grown body 
in which he died for us: he has not again 
returned to the stature of infancy. 

Thus those who tell us of visions and super¬ 
natural appearances of the Blessed Virgin, 
generally represent her as having shown her¬ 
self to them with the infant Saviour in her 
arms. To me, this simple fact would instantly 
prove the vision to be a fabrication of their 
own fancies. 

I own that the Madonna di San Sisto is a 

v • 

magnificent painting, and that imagination 
may find cause of admiration in all the ana¬ 
chronisms and absurdities which common 
sense reproves. The custom of the times, 
more than Raphael, is to be blamed for them ; 
but it certainly were to be wished that they 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


163 


did not exist. In a religious point of view, 
they can never be justified ; for nothing is 
more opposed to the inspiration of reverential 
awe and lofty feelings than the sight of these 
numerous Madonnas which compose two- 
thirds of most Italian picture-galleries. 

Do you wish to paint a mother and her 
son ?—why transform her into a Madonna ? 
You scarcely ever represent her with that 
feeling of awe and reverence which ought to 
distinguish her from any other parent. If an 
artist feels himself capable of uniting in his 
production this sentiment of humble respect 
with the expression of motherly affection, let 
him paint a Madonna: but if he is unable to 
blend these different impulses—and seldom is 
it even attempted to do so—let him confine 
himself to the representation of an ordinary 
mother. The sentiments of a common mother 
towards her mortal child are sufficiently beau¬ 
tiful, and intense, and various to exercise all 
his talent. 

Behold that painting by Murillo! It is 
not a Madonna * as many, accustomed to the 
stores of Italian galleries, at once suppose it 

m 2 


164 ? TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 

to be. It represents a young woman, seated 
on a naked garden wall and holding her infant 
in her arms: nothing is brought forward to 
add effect, or to embellish the scenery. But 
look what feelings animate the group : can 
any be more likely to excite the interest of 
the beholder? See the child put up its little 
hand to draw aside the drapery that covers 
its mother’s sunken breast,—that breast from 
which it can receive its only food : see its 
fingers rest upon the linen which falls not 
back with the needed quickness: see the 
pale features of the starving child turned 
away with the look of often-frustrated hope, 
of resigned distress! Now look at the 
mother. Pity the tender, affectionate move¬ 
ment with which she gently stays the search¬ 
ing hand of her pining infant! Her features 
are not beautiful: they are those of a young 
Spanish peasant girl; but oh! how eloquent, 
how heartfelt is the expression with which she 
turns them up to heaven ! Behold those dark, 
tearful eyes; who can look unmoved on the 
supplicating, but almost despairing glance in 
which they are fixed above ! Her quivering 


TRANSRIIENANE MEMOIRS. 165 

lips pray for her starving infant: she has 
brought it into an existence of misery, and 
must she now see it perish from want of that 
nourishment which every mother’s breast 
ought to supply ? But that mother is herself 
extenuated by want: in the most tender age 
of maternity, heaven alone can save both her 
and her offspring from perishing: and heaven 
it is she prays to have mercy on her infant !...» 


SWEETNESS OF THE GERMAN 
LANGUAGE. 


I went last evening to see Weber’s “ Eury- 
anthe ” performed at the Theatre. Of course, 
I did not pretend to understand the words of 
the Opera; but I had expected that I should 
be able to follow the plot by help of the action 
alone of the performers, and the intonations 
of their voices. How great was my mistake! 
During a violent dispute between two of the 


166 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


personages in the play, one of them threw 
clown his “ Handschuh —glove’’ before the 
other: so far, the sound of the language 
afforded me a faithful and sufficient clue; 
but, after many equally harsh sounding 
speeches, and just when I expected they were 
on the point of coming to bloody extremities, 
they suddenly shook hands and smiled recon¬ 
ciliation ! “ So much,” I thought, “ for 

“ trusting to the soft intonations of the Ger- 
“ man language!” 


TOMB OF MOREAU. 

I had walked out of Dresden, and had, at 
length, discovered Moreau’s neat and simple 
tomb on the brow of the hill above Reck- 
nitz. I approached it with rather mingled 
sentiments—unable to determine in my own 
mind whether I was about to pay my devo¬ 
tions to the remains of a hero or of a traitor. 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. lG7 

I endeavoured, however, to arouse within me 
that enthusiasm which we think ourselves 
bound to feel on such occasions, but which 
the regular, systematic character of Moreau 
was so little calculated to inspire. As I 
approached nearer, the almost fictitious so¬ 
lemnity of my reflections was interrupted by 
sounds which testified to the equally unsettled 
sentiments of some votary who had preceded 
me. Advancing onwards, I distinguished the 
words of a number of French songs which, 
however unconnected with the tenant of the 
tomb, were allied to the train of thought 
which the place was likely to awaken. The 
“ Marseilleois,” the “ Ca-ira ” and several 
other of the most popular songs of the com¬ 
mencement of the French Revolution, were 
sung out in a careless manner from behind the 
monument. The voice—which, with no small 
degree of surprise, I immediately recognised 
as the same which, as the reader may remem¬ 
ber, had so much interested me in the ruined 
castle of the Black Forest—the voice ceased 
for a few moments : but—probably according 
to the course of the unseen visiter’s reflec- 


168 


TRANSRIIENANE MEMOIRS. 


tions — it suddenly rose again on the air, and 
repeated the well-known tune, 

“ Bon voyage , Napoleon ; 

“ Tu reviendras dans une autre saison /” 

I was now standing behind the block of 
granite that forms the monument. At a few 
paces from me, a young man was seated on the 
dry stubble of the corn-field, and was occupied 
in sketching the tomb and the scenery beyond 
it. I instantly recognised him as my reveur 
of the monastery of Prague—though I had 
not then been aware of his identity with the 
unseen minstrel of the Black Forest. 

44 But are you not afraid of thus loudly 
“singing these revolutionary canticles?'*— 
4 Afraid! of what ? you know my foible : 
4 any difficulties into which they might bring 
4 me would be fully compensated by the 
4 scenes which, I can fancy, would be pre- 
4 sented to me. Since 1 have been going over 
4 these countries alone, I have, moreover, 
4 acquired the habitlof thus giving vent to the 
4 feelings of the moment—like that other 
4 dreamer who 


“ Whistled as he went, for want of thought.” 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 169 

* I did, however, imagine that I was really 
4 thinking during the hour that I have just 
‘ loitered away on this spot. This, said I to 

* myself, is what the world calls glory ! A 
4 solitary tomb in the midst of a foreign corn- 
4 field, amongst the stubble of which a flock 
4 of sheep are picking up a scanty nourish- 
4 merit, and that drove of cattle strays—tink- 
4 ling the numerous bells suspended around 
4 their necks, and which the distance blends 
4 into something like the sound of a stringed 
4 instrument! A solitary tomb, on which 
4 swarms of caterpillars irreverently crawl, 
4 and which is whitened by the inglorious 
4 deposits of the birds that flutter amongst the 
4 branches of those three tiny oak trees that 
4 rise beside it! A solitary tomb, visited as a 
4 sight by crowds of unfeeling strangers, who 
4 scratch their own names on the bronze 
4 helmet that surmounts it, or insert the word 
4 44 TRAITOR ,, above the flattering epitaph 
4 inscribed on the granite! And to whom, 

4 after all, is that epitaph most flattering ? to 
4 whom is it chiefly raised ?— 





170 TRANSItHEN'ANE MEMOIRS. 

MOREAU 
DER HELD 

FIEL HIER AN DER SEITE 
ALEXANDERS 
DEN XXVII AUGUST 
MDCCCXIII.* 

8 Is it not as much intended as a record of 
8 the bravery which prompted the Emperor 
* Alexander thus to expose himself, as of the 
8 merits of the soldier who “ fell at his side?” 
8 But,’ continued my animated friend, 8 do 
8 you know, lam told that Moreau’s legs only 
8 are buried here : that the body was carried 
8 away by the cannon ball! And some mau- 
8 vais plaisants go so far as to assert that even 
8 both these legs are not those of the general, 
8 for that it was over two left legs that Alex- 
8 ander reared this monument! You remem- 
4 her the favourite song in the opera of the 
8 Dame Blanche — 

‘ Quel plaisir d'etre soldat! 

‘ Quel plaisir d'etre soldat /’ 


* “ Moreau, the hero, fell here at Alexander’s side.” 


CHAPTER X. 


Ah !—What should follow slips from my reflection! 

Whatever follows nevertheless may be 
As apropos of hope or retrospection, 

As though the lurking thought had follow’d free. 
All present life is but an interjection, 

An “ oh!” or “ ah J” of joy or misery 
Or a “ ha ! ah?” or “ bah!”—a yawn, or “ pooh!” 
Of which perhaps the latter is most true 

Don Juan. Canto XV. 


Equality of political rights was secured 
to the followers of different religious creeds 
by the treaty concluded between the King of 
Saxony and Napoleon. Before that time, no 
Catholic had been allowed to possess landed 
property; and though the royal family was 
itself Catholic, yet so strong was the animosity 
of the Protestant, the more numerous sect, that 
a code of laws existed very similar to that 




17 l 2 transrhenane memoirs. 

which, thanks to the good sense of George III. 
no longer disgraces the English statute-book. 
The religious persecutions of one party cannot 
justify the reprisals of the other; but each 
seems to have strived which could offer most 
sacrifices to the spirit of persecuting fanaticism. 

The music performed during high mass in 
the King’s chapel is greatly admired by all 
travellers. I also admire it: but.... 

Party spirit renders it difficult for a Catholic 
to find fault with any part of the conduct of 
his fellow Catholics, without exposing himself 
to hear the sincerity of his belief questioned 
by Protestants, and even by those of his own 
creed. A writer for the public is, almost 
necessarily, compelled to be illiberal: unless he 
adopts all the prejudices, and displays all the 
rancour felt by either party, he is denied and 
condemned by both. Be it so: the fear of 
offending the mistaken, though well-meaning, 
friends of Catholicism shall not induce me 
silently to see practices opposed to every prin¬ 
ciple of Christianity, defended by the polluted 
shield of the Catholic faith. Like those 
shields we read of in romance, the arrows of 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 173 

its enemies and of its mistaken friends have 
been so long discharged against it, and have 
so firmly engrafted themselves upon its sur¬ 
face, that the wearied arm would seem about 
to sink under the complicated weight. Let 
me now endeavour to extract one of these 
poisonous darts. Though that which I may 
blame in the performance of the service in 
the Catholic royal chapel of Dresden, may 
not, perhaps, call for the strong language I 
have employed,—yet, so far as it goes, it is 
most shameful; and so far as it goes, it tends 
to indispose the Protestant beholder towards 
a religion, on the subject of which he is but too 
willing to receive hostile opinions. 

Let me first ask the King of Saxony—for 
it is he who is answerable for this part of the 
service of his chapel—let me ask him if he 
really holds the Catholic belief relative to 
the sacrifice of the mass? If so, or if he 
holds any religious belief whatever, does he not 
violate the respect he owes to his God, when he 
transforms the offering up of humble prayers 
into a mere theatrical show? Does he see 
nothing inconsistent with the reverence he 


174 TRANS ItHEN ANE MEMOIRS. 

professes towards his Maker, when he collects 
together thoughtless crowds, who, turning 
their hacks to the altar, or sauntering carelessly 
through the aisles of the building, hang on 
every brazen note of his state eunuchs? The 
stranger, on first entering the church, is edi¬ 
fied by beholding the line of separation drawn 
between the men and the women of the con¬ 
gregation, according to the customs of the 
first Christians: but when he sees that this 
separation is absolutely necessitated by the 
assembled concourse of idle young men, what 
must he think of him who thus transforms the 
most sacred mysteries of his religion into an 
attractive but unfeeling show—who makes 
the hour of prayer that of a fashionable ren¬ 
dezvous, and the service of the altar completely 
dependent on the taste of his court musicians ; 
causing the unoccupied priest to stop in the 
midst of the service till the cessation of the 
fiddles that accompany the theatrical strains 
of his singers? 

Delicacy would, perhaps, require that I 
should pass over these miserable beings in 
silence; but those who can find pleasure in 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 175 

their performance cannot object to my alluding 
to them. When there is any chance of our 
remarks producing a good effect, false modesty- 
should not make us pass over in silence that 
which is really wrong. The Popes used to be 
the grand protectors, the grand employers of 
these singers : the King of Saxony is, there¬ 
fore, in part excusable for following the ex¬ 
ample set him by the heads of his church. 
But if the Popes, as individuals, favoured that 
which was disgraceful to humanity, ought 
their example to be followed by those who 
know them not beyond the limits of their 
sacred character? I myself am a Catholic $ 
but I blush to think that the heads of a reli¬ 
gious society should, in their character of 
temporal princes, have protected that which it 
is disgraceful to the King of Saxony to imi¬ 
tate. I speak here in the past mood, because 
I am assured that his present Holiness has now 
interfered to prevent the continuance of this 
revolting “ commerce.” 

The manner in which high mass is cele¬ 
brated at Dresden, is, in short, a cause of 
scandal to every thinking man, and must be 





176 TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS* 

strongly reprobated by every real Christian* 
whether he be a follower of the Catholic or 
of the Protestant creed* 


LANGUAGES. 

A local proverb says that “ Dresden is 
“always either a hospital or a schoolin 
winter, the residence of the Russians and 
Poles who frequent the neighbouring waters 
of Carlsbad ; in summer, resorted to by 
Englishmen eager to study the German lan¬ 
guage* 

It is very generally supposed that this lan¬ 
guage is best spoken in Saxony : a belief far 
from founded. The Saxons themselves allow 
that it is heard in its greatest purity in Hano¬ 
ver. But, in fact, the German language may 
be said to exist no where as such : for no 
where is it the language of the people. In 
every part of Germany, the lower classes have 
their own patois , which always differs more or 
less from the written language; and few even 
of superior rank and education, to whatever 


TUANSllHENANE MEMOIRS. 177 

district they may belong, are able completely 
to banish provincialisms from their discourse. 

To the ear of a foreigner ignorant of the 
language, the Austrian dialect is by far the 
most pleasing. As German, the language 
spoken at Vienna is barbarous; but, to a 
stranger, its intonations are not less agreeable 
on that account; for the vicinity of Italy has in¬ 
troduced something of Italian softness; while, 
owing to the southern latitude of the country, 
the people are more animated and lively—are 
less German than in other parts. 

This, perhaps, it is that draws upon the 
Austrians the malevolence of their more steady 
neighbours. I would, in no way, assert that 
the natives of the other German states are all 
amicably disposed towards each other; but 
they all speak of the Austrians with the same 
mingled sentiments of unfounded dislike and 
contempt. The incorrectness of their lan¬ 
guage offers a never-ending source of ridicule: 
and, in short, in society and on the theatre, 
they stand preeminent as the Irishmen of 
Germany. Were this dislike founded upon 
the policy of the Austrian government, it 

N 


178 TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 

might be excused ; but I cannot look upon 
the individual natives of Vienna otherwise 
than as the most pleasant, lively, and agree¬ 
able people of Germany. 

To acquire the German language, Dresden 
is of all towns the last in which a stranger 
should settle. Though French is, it may be 
said, the language of society all over the Con¬ 
tinent, yet it is here more generally known 
than in other parts of Germany. I am, how¬ 
ever, told that it is less spoken at Berlin than 
elsewhere, and that the members of society 
there pique themselves on the correctness of 
their own elocution. Nor is the accent of 
the Prussians decidedly bad : but even were 
that the case, the stranger should not dread it; 
for the accent peculiar to his own language 
will almost always predominate over every 
other he may fear to acquire. An English¬ 
man has, moreover, no cause of complaint, if 
he speaks German like a Prussian. 

One word more of advice to the English 
scholar: let him not be terrified or repulsed 
by the difficulties of the language. Madame 
de Staei said that the attainment of most 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 179 

languages was a study , but that the acquisition 
of German was a science : he who does not 
know German, cannot appreciate this declara¬ 
tion ; but he who does know it, will join with 
me in asserting that it well repays all the 
labour its acquisition costs the student. 

The method which I myself followed may 
be found useful. Although, when I arrived 
at Dresden, I had already passed two months 
in the country, yet I had never bestowed the 
least attention on the language of Germany, 
Having then taken a dozen lessons in order 
to learn the pronunciation and the main prin¬ 
ciples of the grammar, I resolved that I would 
not endeavour to acquire that conversational 
dialect in which but little progress could be 
made during a short residence, and could 
scarcely ^be retained in after-life; and, dis¬ 
charging my master, I began to read Schil¬ 
ler’s “ Wilhelm Tell” with no other help than 
a grammar and a small pocket dictionary 
afforded me. By the most assiduous applica¬ 
tion, in the course of five weeks I have thus 
read—with as much, or more, pleasure than I 

N C Z 




180 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


ever read any thing in my life—all Schiller's 
best tragedies. 

What say you now to that system which 
dedicates six or eight years of every man's 
youth to the acquisition—supposing that he 
acquire them—of two languages, neither of 
which present as great difficulties as the 
German ? 

As the literary public of Italy is divided by 
the opinions°of the Trecentisti and their adver¬ 
saries, so that of Germany beholds the more 
important struggles of those who wish to 
purify the language from the incursions of 
French words and idioms. The armies of 
France, while they taught their own language 
to the natives of those countries in which they 
sojourned, gradually corrupted the national 
dialect itself: and it is now the object of pa¬ 
triotic Germans to expunge those gallicisms 
which had found their way from common, 
negligent conversation into the very literature 
of their country. I am acquainted with some 
who, refusing to address ladies by the now 
generally adopted title of Madame , offend 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 181 

refined ears by still employing the antiquated 
epithet, Frau ! 

Ridicule has, also, been called upon to aid 
in this purification. I have heard a clever 
comedy, in which almost every German line— 
spoken by one of the characters—had its 
fellow in the absurd introduction of a French 
idiom. 

Many foreigners have wished that the Ger¬ 
mans would abandon their own letters, and 
print their books and journals in Roman type. 
Why should this be desired? Why should 
the people of an immense district give up 
their own letters, in order to save the few who 
study their language, a paltry difficulty which 
may be surmounted in the space of half an 
hour ? Would the “ classical” scholar re¬ 
nounce the cherished associations of the Greek 
type ? Then why demand that the only Euro¬ 
pean language which can rival the beauty and 
richness of the ancient Greek, should abandon 
its national alphabet—that alphabet which is, 
perhaps, alone capable of conveying the true 
a id exact sound of its words? For, strange 


182 


THANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


as the assertion may appear, every German 
word is pronounced as it is spelt, no letter is 
useless. 


EXCURSIONS. 

Although, as I have before said, Dresden 
is not a handsome, nor even a pretty town, 
yet the country in its vicinity is, perhaps, 
more beautiful than that which surrounds any 
other capital—excepting always Naples. The 
Elbe, as it flows past the Terrasse, involunta¬ 
rily brings back the Arno to our remembrance; 
and whether we follow its bed to the vine- 
covered hills of Meisen, or ascend its stream 
to the dark pines, the wild rocks, the smiling 
vallies, and the frowning Bastey of the Saxon- 
Switzerland, we meet with scenery equally 
calculated to charm either the poet or the 
painter. I take it for granted that preceding 
tourists have not failed to describe the Sach¬ 
sen Schweitz. I shall not, therefore, dwell on 
the pretty points of view in the Liebthal and 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


183 


Uttewald, on the windings of the Elbe around 
the base of the perpendicular Bastey, or the 
white sun-lighted sea of cloud whose low 
waving billows concealed the country lying 
beneath the precipitous ridge of the Brand : 
nor shall I detain my readers by an account 
of the civil lowliness of the inn of Hohnstein, 
or the inscriptions on the neat tomb-stones in 
the village church-yard ; nor of the perpen¬ 
dicular crevice and the bridges across the 
ravines that are passed in ascending to the 
summit of the Hochstein. Suffice it to say 
that the picturesque traveller who visits this 
country, even though he should be acquainted 
with Switzerland, proper , will not be disap- 
• 

The valley of Tharante will offer him 
another pleasant excursion : with a smile at 
German sentimentality and cunning, he will 
drop his gift into the apparently-neglected 
box which requests “ the delighted wanderer 
“ to bestow an offering on beautiful nature 
and his independent indignation and contempt 
will be aroused by the gross flattery which, 



184 


TRANSRIIENANE MEMOIRS. 


in that spot called heiligen Schatten ,* has 
raised a small pillar with the inscription, “ Oh y 
holy shades! twice holy , since Frederic 
Augustus and Emilia esteemedyou holy , on "... 
The date of the royal visit follows. 


• • 

WILHELM VON TUDEMANN.f 

In his Jtineraire de Paris d Jerusalem , 
Chateaubriand mentions the sentiments of 
pride with which he found in one of the 

Greek convents a translation of his own 

v » 

-• Atala.” It was with something of the same 
pride, though embittered by a feeling of just 
reproach, that I looked over a work entitled 
“ Neapel wie es ist —Naples as it is”—by 
Wilhelm von Tiidemann : in this work, which 
has very lately appeared in Germany and has 
there met with an extensive circulation, what 
was my surprise to find whole pages tran- 

* Holy shades. 

f I am not sure but that this Gentleman’s name is Lu- 
demann: if so, a blot in my journal must excuse the in¬ 
voluntary error. 


TRANSRIIENANE MEMOIRS. 


185 


scribed almost literally, and without any ac¬ 
knowledgment, from my own “ Transalpine 
“ Memoirs!” Perhaps Mr. Tiidemann is not a 
wilful plagiarist; as, besides the German papers 
which have avowedly reviewed my work, 
several others have repeated from it passages 
and anecdotes, without saying whence they were 
received. It is, therefore, possible that the 
author of “ Neapel wie es ist ” may have pro¬ 
fessed to collect these notices only ; but I 
trust that, should these papers ever meet his 
eye, he will acknowledge the justice of my 
complaint, and, in his future publications, 
adopt measures to vindicate himself from the 
possible reproach of plagiarism. 


THE VOGELSCHUTZEN, 

I had long been taught to look forward 
with high expectation to this popular fete. 
The line of the immense crowd indicated the 
road to be followed beyond the Pirnaische 
Vorstadt —the suburb of Pirna. In the 
centre of a large open field on the bank of the 


186 


TRANSRIIENANE MEMOIRS. 


Elbe, arose three lofty poles of unequal height; 
on the top of each of these, a large bird of 
painted wood with extended wings w r as slightly 
fixed. From a stand erected at some distance 
in front, all those who paid a stated tribute 
were entitled to shoot missiles from a cross¬ 
bow ; and besides private wagers, a prize was 
attached to each limb of the bird, proportioned 
to the difficulty of striking it from its elevated 
situation. The royal family itself generally 
takes part in this sport, and all orders of 
people follow their example. 

The shooting at the bird is, however, the 
least attractive of the pleasures of the Vogel- 
schutzen. Around the object of contest, an 
actual town of temporary booths has been 
erected : several of these are occupied by the 
venders of petty wares, or hold forth the 
attractions of the pastry-cook’s shop ; but by 
far the greater number announce themselves 
as caffes , or have been raised and elegantly 
adorned by private individuals for the enter¬ 
tainment of their own families and friends. 
So far there was nothing novel or particularly 
striking in the scene ; it was in the conduct 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 187 

of those around me that I found matter of 
surprise : here was not the noise, the fun, the 
drunkenness of an English fair; nor the lively 
dance of a French village f6te ; but hundreds 
of people quietly circulated amongst the 
booths—their features marked by no excite¬ 
ment, but, with the usual heavy placid expres¬ 
sion, surveying one another and ail around, 
and mutually inhaling the smoke of each 
other’s tobacco-pipe: for I really believe that, 
from all this multitude, there could not have 
been selected fifty of the lower classes who 
did not carry the never-to-be-abandoned tube! 


GERMAN CHARACTER. 


« How sweetly did it float upon the wings 
“ Of silence through the empty-vaulted night, 

“ At every fall smoothing the raven-down 
“ Of darkness till it smiled!” 

If ever I publish these papers, such shall 
be the motto prefixed to the book. What 
may be the exact meaning of these lines, I do 


188 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


not indeed profess myself able to state with 
clearness and precision : Lord Byron asserted 
that they always conveyed to his mind the 
image of some one stroking the rounded back 
of a purring black cat: to me, they will seem 
indescribably allied to the “dark” pictures 
which w'e frame to ourselves of this “ land of 
“ romance.” 

Whether or not Germany and the Germans 
be entitled to this character which general 
opinion affixes to them, would be an interest¬ 
ing subject for investigation. In a great de¬ 
gree, I believe them to be so; for the decisions 
of public opinion are usually founded in truth, 
and the general tone of many of their writings 
proves the inclination of their minds towards 
the romantic, the wild, and the supernatural. 
Their quick perception of the beauties of 
nature, and their abilities to describe them, 
might be adduced to support this opinion: 
but he who has seen the opera of the Frei- 
schiitz performed in France or England, and 
who then beholds it on the German sta«*e, 
will be, at once, convinced of the justice of 
his preconceived belief. Let him be present 


' TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


189 


at the scene of the casting of the bullets, and 
he will require no further proof of the super¬ 
natural genius of the Germans : he will not 
see an overpowering number of fanciful or 
hideous shapes, but he will see enough to 
convince him of the diabolical skill of the 
manager. 

A very creditable exhibition of general 
works of industry and of modern paintings is 
now open: these latter, also, strongly testify 
to the “ dark” genius of the people. A 
clouded moon glimmering over an unvaried 
expanse of sea \ roaring torrents tearing 
through frowning rocks and fallen trees ; 
night-storms of snow raging round an old 
castle illuminated from within by torches and 
from without by a cold, bright moon and stars 
—such are the subjects which prove the bent 
of the painter’s mind. 

It is the fashion to abuse, or rather ridicule, 
the Germans. I remember to have heard an 
English friend explain to a Frenchman that the 
English laughed at the Germans as a heavy, 
stupid race of men: the smile which arose 
on the Frenchman’s features did not betray 


190 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


to my unsuspecting compatriot the disadvan¬ 
tageous comparison which the other was 
drawing. But be that as it may, our opinion 
of the Germans appears to me unjust. I, 
like others, have been amused by their pre¬ 
dilection for beer and tobacco; and have re¬ 
gretted that they should thus deaden the 
quickness of their natural faculties ; but which 
of those nations who ridicule German heavi¬ 
ness and apathy, equals them in quiet amiabi¬ 
lity, unalterable good temper, and an appear¬ 
ance of general content ? I never yet saw a 
German angry: never yet have I heard a 
German oath—for their tranquil manner of 
exclaiming “Sacrament!” will not sound as 
such to him who has travelled through the 
coarse indecent blackguardisms of the loVver 
orders of French. Let us be just towards 
the Germans ; and making allowance for the 
divided and compressed state of the popula¬ 
tion of their extensive territory, let us acknow¬ 
ledge their amiable qualities while we indulge 
in a good-natured laugh at their peculiarities. 

To the eye of an Englishman, moreover, 
these peculiarities are not very great. Much 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 1Q1 

resemblance may still be traced between the 
manners of the two people : for though the 
once proud sway of the Saxons be now shame¬ 
fully circumscribed to the rule of one million 
of souls, we cannot forget how many of us are 
descended from these—our fierce conquerors 
of old. 


P. P. C. VISITS. 

“ This is a farewell visit, Monsieur; I 
“ return to England sooner than I had ex- 
“ peeled.” ‘ Comment! est-ce-que Je gonverne- 

‘ ment V . “ The government! are you 

“ Germans so accustomed to the tyrannical 
“ interference of your police, that you can 
“ imagine no other compulsive motive for 
“ abandoning once-formed plans? No: wliat- 
“ ever may be the injustices of the English 
“ government,"it ‘"does not descend to such 
“ despicable intrusion. No : it is not the 
“‘government* which recalls me to my 
“ country; but I have said with your national 



192 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


“ tragedian—the only one who can pretend 
“ to rival our own Shakespeare— 

Falir* Inn, dueitler Wahn, der michbethort! 

Ich soil das Gluck in meiner Heimath finden. 
***** 

Ach, wolil hab’ icli es stetsgeliebt! Icli fiilil’s, 

Es felilte mir zu jedem Gluck der Erden.* 


* Away, vain dream, too long tliou’st closed my eyes! 

In my own country only shall I know 
That happiness which home alone supplies. 

Ah ! ever have I loved it! ’Midst the flow 
Of joys which after-lifemight, haply, lend, 

, My thoughts, I feel, would thither ever bend. 

Schillers “ Wilhelm Tell”—Act 3. Scene II. 




CHAPTER XI. 


And thence through Leipzig , Francfort , and the like, 
Until he reached the castellated Rhine : 

Ye glorious Gothic scenes ! how must ye strike 
All phantasies, not even excepting mine : 

A gray wall, a green ruin, rusty pike, 

Make my soul pass the equinoctial line 
Between the present and past worlds, and hover 
Upon their airy confine, half-seas over. 

Don Juan, Canto X, 


As the schnellwagen approached Leipzig, 
the guard pointed out to me the situations 
which the contending armies engaged in the 
battle had occupied on the plain we were 
traversing. “ There,” he said, “ is the mark. 
“ of a cannon-ballhe pointed to the mud 
wall of a cottager’s garden which was pierced 
by a circular hole, in the cavity of which a 
poor beggar-woman rested her sickly head as 


o 





194 TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 

she sat upon the bank beneath. A striking 
picture of the passions and ills of mankind. 

The great fair is now holding at Leipzig. I 
went to several hotels before I found one 
that could accommodate me with an apart¬ 
ment. At length I was shown into a back 
bedroom, with which the necessities of the 
case compelled me to be contented; and 
having passed the day in a mailcoach, I thought 
it natural to demand a basin of water and a 
towel. But long were my applications un¬ 
heeded: I had already waited a good half- 
hour ; the door opened; a servant entered, 
bringing me—a smoker’s spitting-pan ! 

In the dining-room below there stood a 
stove surmounted by a statue of Minerva. 
Minerva upon a German stove 1 In the Tuil- 
lerie gardens at Paris, I have seen the casts 
of the Grecian statues of the Fawn and the 
Wrestlers smiling and writhing beneath a 
white, shivering coat of northern snow. 

The Leipzig book-fair is renowned through¬ 
out Europe* So strong is the influence of 
prejudice and prepossession, that I have heard 
this fair brought forward in argument to 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


195 


support the often-asserted literary superiority 
of Germany over other countries. But what 
does it in fact prove—except that the book 
trade is here still in its infancy, is still carried 
on according to erroneous notions ? The 
unfolded printed sheets are alone brought into 
the fair ; it is not many years since the people 
of Dresden were astonished by seeing, for the 
first time, a new book folded into a readable 
form and exposed for sale at a shopman’s 
window. In England, all fairs are now little 
frequented; and when the German publishers 
shall understand their trade as well as it is 
understood by their brethren of London, the 
Leipzig book-fair will cease to exist. 


A BURIAL-GROUND. 

There is, at Leipzig, a burial-ground, the 
appearance of which pleased me much. The 
tree-surrounded tombs recalled Pere La 
Chaise to my mind ; and though it was not 
here exalted by the monuments of those who 
lately figured in the history of the world, yet 

o 2 


196 TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS# 

it was gently soothed by the scriptural extracts 
and modest German inscriptions, headed only 
by the words, Ruhe-stadt der Familie— 
Resting-place of the Family : the name fol¬ 
lowed. The form of this Christian inscription 
was never departed from, excepting when 
Erb-Begrabniss —Hereditary burial-place 
—occasionally replaced the other words. 

Pleased by the humble spirit of these in¬ 
scriptions, I lingered long amidst the retired, 
the elegant, and the spacious tombs: and my 
mind had so fully yielded to that train of 
thoughts which the written sentiments were 
so well calculated to inspire, that I started, as 
from a profanation, on coming near a rail- 
surrounded wall thus inscribed, 

SePULCRUM COLLEGIl MaJORIS 
Principum : 

on one side was inserted a modern marble, on 
which I read 

Manibus 

Ernestx 

Platensi. 

Who would not pity this unmeaning, pe¬ 
dantic, pagan conceit ? 




TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 197 

I stood to observe a poor, broken-down 
old woman, who, kneeling beside a small 
earthen mound, was dressing up the flowers 
planted above the humble grave. A child of 
six years of age brought her a small waterings 
pan, and then played heedlessly about—smel¬ 
ling at the blooming flower-bed which probably 
covered the body of a brother or a sister whom 
she had never known, but whom her care¬ 
worn mother still wept as she tended its early 
“ resting-place.” Such were the suppositions 
which presented themselves to me, and I 
thought how a poet would have lingered over 
the affecting scene I was witnessing. But 
alas ! alas ! why can we not indulge in these 
dreams ? Why must every fine feeling of the 
heart be checked by the leaden intrusion of 
reality ? — 

“ Can Fancy’s hands no veil create 

“ To hide the sad realities of fate?”— 

The aged woman called her child; locked the 
gate in the iron railing round the grave ; and 
proceeding to a neighbouring tomb, coolly 
selected a key from a ponderous bunch she 


198 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


wore at her side, and again went through the 
unmeaning office of a common hireling ! 

This church-yard is on the skirts of the 
town, beside the plain on which the battle 
was fought. Over the door of the church is 
the following inscription : 

Gott hat in der hlutigen Schlachl 
Von Leipzig , dies Bet-Hause hewacht. 
Viel Gnade hat Er uns erxviesen, 

Der Namen des Her re seij gepriesen . 

Den 19 Oct: 1813. 

It is interesting to see important past events 
so completely brought before us. 


THE PRAIRIE. 

The country between Leipzig and Francfort, 
though it may occasionally present some pretty 
verdant spots, is, generally speaking, of that 
open sort to which the Americans have affixed 
the title of Prairie. True, it is most barren ; 
but within a century, the Prairie of the western 
hemisphere may be converted into a corn 



TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


199 


district, when the terms in which the Ame¬ 
rican novelist describes this, under his pen, 
interesting tract, will be equally applicable to 
the not less monotonous, though cultivated, 
swells of Germany. 

In corn consists the riches of the greater 
part of this line of country : no vineyards, no 
pastures are to be seen ; no hedge or fence 
marks the different plots of ground ; and so 
great is the dreariness that—on passing be¬ 
fore the posts and gates which point out the 
frontiers of Saxony, Prussia, Weimar, Gotha, 
Hesse, Bavaria, and Francfort, as they succes¬ 
sively stretch in and out, and are indented 
the one in the other—I remarked to my 
fellow-traveller, “ Pity that the Sovereigns of 
“ all these States do not define their several 
** boundaries by hedges; such a plan would 
“ relieve the fatigued eye of the traveller, 
“ and would be a great stride towards a more 
«* complete enclosure of the country.” 

The reader mky have wished that I had 
lingered longer on this immense tract which 
I have just traversed. The distance between 
Dresden and Francfort is, indeed, great: but 



200 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


how little does it offer to detain the traveller 1 
The European “ classical” tourist in Mexico 
and Peru wanders heedlessly through king¬ 
doms whose uncertain traditions are far 
anterior to his own cherished associations. 
Unmoved by the eternal forests around him, 
his mind regrets, with learned childishness, 
that these deserts have never been hallowed 
and polluted by a Cicero and a Caesar. Though 
such a state of mind is not natural, yet it accords 
with the fictitious w T ants of an education of 
which the main object seems to be the check¬ 
ing the impulses of nature. But let that pass. 
In Germany, we have few “ classical” associa¬ 
tions : the ground has not been illustrated by 
the refinements and the arts consequent on an 
early state of social civilization ; nor are we 
here exalted by the grandeur of the untamed 
wildernesses of the new world. Germany 
has always been either a field of battle on 
which invaders have sunk beneath the resist¬ 
ance of the children of the soil, or the 
dreaded home of a population ever engaged 
in native feuds, or sallying forth to attack 
its more fortunate neighbours. Its language 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


201 


has kept it insulated: the divided state of the 
interior has prevented its ever becoming so im¬ 
posing a power as its extent of territory would 
seem to warrant : it has never formed one 
settled empire: it has never enjoyed a go¬ 
vernment willing and able, and of sufficient 
duration, efficaciously to protect the arts, and 
add outward splendour to the mental specula¬ 
tions of its subjects :—it has never had an 
Augustan age. 

By him who has the recollection of the 
green fields, the neat cottages, the numerous 
villages, and the whole happy scenery of 
England fresh in his memory, these wilder¬ 
nesses of ploughed land must be looked upon 
with disappointed eyes ; and a thought on the 
constitutional privileges which have caused the 
preeminence of his own country, will call a 
sigh from every Englishman who here beholds 
the consequences of feudal tyranny and despo¬ 
tic governments, and who draws sad parallels 
between his own more fortunate island, where 
individual freedom has been enjoyed for ages, 
and the dreary regions around him. Some 
may, indeed, trace the appearance of conti- 


202' 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


nental landscape to other causes than the feu¬ 
dal rights of half-emancipated nobles ; but he 
who proclaims that the debasement of unhappy 
Ireland is occasioned by the superior privileges 
of an insolent religious aristocracy, must be¬ 
lieve that the excessive privileges of every 
aristocracy—even though it be not fired by 
fanatical animosity—is calculated to produce 
similar effects. And is this to continue ? Are 
Ireland, Germany, and Italy—is the whole of 
Europe, excepting the flourishing oases of 
England, France, and the Netherlands—to be 
still repressed by the despotism of great and 
petty tyrants ? I know not whether the corn 
deserts of Germany, or the brilliant scenery of 
Italy, be most calculated to excite the regret 
and the indignation of the well-wisher of man¬ 
kind : true, that of Italy we may say, 

“ Eternal summer gilds it yet 

but the brightness of the outside only makes 
us regret the more that the heart is withered, 
and we are forced to add, 

“ But all, except its sun, is set.” 

Again I ask, is this to last? Are those lands 
on which Nature has lavished her choicest 




TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


20 3 


gifts, and those which she has less generously 
treated, to he equally doomed to the same 
negative existence ?—To some this warmth 
may appear exaggerated ; but let them cast 
their eyes over the kingdoms of European— 
yea, of European—despotism ; let them mea¬ 
sure the regions from the mouth of the Tagus 
to the shores of Kamschatka, from the straits 
of Messina to the utmost cape of frozen Nor¬ 
way—one wide waste of lordly conquest; let 
them consider the blessed coasts of Italy, which 
have erst enjoyed a brighter fate, and those 
dormant energies palsied in the wide regions 
of Germany, and then blame my question— 
shall this, must this continue ? or—with the 
finely-expressed hope of Campbell—that hope 
which thirty years of frustrated expectations 
have been unable to quell—shall we not still 
assert. 


“ No ! thy proud lords, unpitied land! shall see 
“ That man hath yet a soul, and dare be free! 

“ A little while, along thy saddening plains, 

“ The starless night of desolation reigns ; 

“ Truth shall restore the light by nature given, 

“ And, like Prometheus, bring the fire of heaven: 


TRANSIIHENANE MEMOIRS. 


204 


“ Prone to tlie dust Oppression sliall he hurl’d, 

“ Her name, her nature, wither’d from the world !” 


THE RHINE. 

The Postwcigen rolled heavily through the 
fine town of Francfort, and after some miles, 
ascended an uninteresting ridge of hills. It 
passed through the dirty streets of the village 
of Hochstheim, and what a country then 
opened before us! While mounting the ridge, 
we had lost sight of the sun which had de¬ 
scended in front behind the summit; but now 
that the ledge was attained, it again burst on 
our eyes from behind the high land that closed 
the opposite side of the valley, and smiled 
over a scene, the sudden richness of which 
seemed to belong to a region far distant from 
that we had just crossed. On every side, un¬ 
inclosed vineyards, teaming with ripe transpa¬ 
rent fruit, glistened in the horizontal rays of 
the setting sun, and stretched in an uninter¬ 
rupted sheet of pale bright green to the bottom 




TRANS11HENANE MEMOIRS. 


20 5 


of the vale. Below was seen a large town, 
whose lofty massive structures rose into the 
sky and faded in the soft hues of the milky 
heavens. At the foot of this town, embedded 
in vineyards, the mighty Rhine rolled its 
sweeping waters, spreading its broad silvery 
surface in the light of the brilliant sun, and 
seeming to impart life and happiness to a scene 
in whose quiet splendour it magnificently 
triumphed. 

How beautiful was the Rhine that night by 
moonlight! With R—ms—y, who had been 
my companion since leaving Dresden, I passed 
the sentinels who trod before the gates of 
Mayence, and sought the long bridge across 
the river. This bridge is formed of boats, 
and lying close upon the surface of the stream, 
its several parts had a buoyancy which added 
to the charm. But why should I attempt to 
describe the scene? the moon floated in the 
blue expanse above; the waters glittered 
around us. “ I shall never forget this hour;” 
I said to my companion. “ I love to select 
“ portions of my life, to form them into 
“ pictures, and thus to set them apart in the 




20 6 


T K A N S RIT E N A N E M E M OIKS. 


“ preserving frames of memory.” R—ms—y 
laughed at my enthusiasm, but owned the full 
witchery of the landscape. 

From the summit of the cathedral of May- 
ence, a boy pointed out an old shapeless 
monument which, he said, was the tomb of 
“ Feldherr Drusus —Field-Marshal Drusus.” 
Here was, at length, a Roman monument— 
but in the hands of a German cicerone ! 

When our minds have once to recur to his¬ 
torical events, it little matters how great is the 
distance to which we would carry them back. 
Independently of the intervening lapse of 
time, they will always settle with greatest 
facility on that epoch on which we have most 
thought. On the Rhine, our “ classical” as- 
associations lead back two thousand years, and 
carry us swiftly beyond the more important, 
but less heeded events which its banks have 
looked upon in later ages of history. We 
recur more easily to the annals of Caesar and 
Tacitus than to the struggles of the rising 
kingdoms of the subdued Roman world, and 
the formation of the empires of the present 
day : and surveying the dismantled fortresses 


TRANSRIIENANE MEMOIRS. 207 

of the middle ages, and the civilized states 
that have consolidated themselves around them, 
we thoughtlessly meet people of all nations 
amongst these oft-contested hills, and, careless 
of the events which have brought about these 
changes, we float down the Rhine in the mo¬ 
dern invention of a steam-packet, and, with 
calm indifference, we gaze only upon the beau¬ 
tiful prospects of its banks :— 

“ The eternal surge 

“ Of time and tide rolls on and bears afar 

“ Our bubbles; as the old burst, new emerge, 

“ Lashed from the foam of ages; while the graves 
“ Of empires heave but like some passing waves.” 

It is, indeed, a strange and an interesting 
sight! I speak not of the scenery; the 
scenery of the Rhine has been often described. 
But, though a steam-packet may be the very- 
opposite of romance, yet there is something 
even romantic in seeing the vessel float, at the 
rate of twelve miles an hour, down this wind¬ 
ing stream ; entering what the often-bending 
rocky banks make appear a succession of beau¬ 
tiful lakes; shooting past one old castle ere it 


£08 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


has lost sight of another, and one bleak rock 
ere that which preceded it has sunk behind 
the intervening promontory :—its deck lined 
by crowds of admiring foreigners, who conti¬ 
nually turn over the local map, seeking for 
each succeeding point of view, until....hark ! 
the bell at the helm sounds loud and clear ;— 
in the depths of a ravine, a village appears in 
sight;—a boat pushes off from the shore ;— 
it fastens itself to our flying packet;—a 
stranger leaps on board ;—’tis my friend of 
the Black Forest, ’tis he of Moreau’s tomb ; 
—other passengers take his place in the slight 
boat;—it loosens its hold—it lingers behind— 
we turn the promontory and it is out of 
sight. 

Often do such scenes and such unexpected 
meetings take place on the packets between 
Mayence and Cologne, as the bell announces 
its approach to the villages that line the river’s 
banks. 






TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


209 


COLOGNE. 

On reaching the inn at Cologne, my Pro¬ 
testant fellow-traveller enquired of the waiter, 
“ Are the people here Protestants or Catho- 
“ lies ?”—‘ Catholics, Sir. 5 —“ Oh, I am 
€€ glad of that; at least we shall be able to see 
“ the cathedral.” 

The architecture of the interior of this im¬ 
mense but unfinished church appeared to me 
to resemble, in every respect, that of the 
beautiful cathedral of Claremont, in the De- 
partement du Puy de Dome. 

Some Protestant visiters of their shrine 
were scandalized by my disbelief in the so- 
called relics of the “ Three Kings” which 
had lately been brought back from Prague, 
whither they and their splendid shrine had 
been conveyed to avoid the irruptions of the 
French. My friends supposed that I could 
not possibly be a real Catholic:—like very 
many of their sect, they would not, in judging 
Catholics, distinguish between matters of faith, 
declared such by the Church, and matters 


p 


210 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


indifferent in themselves, and on which each 
one is allowed to form his own opinion. Such 
is the belief in the identity of supposed relics, 
and in the truth of all miracles which are not 
scriptural. 

Meanwhile, though we may all regret to see 
the devotion of the poor people of Cologne 
directed into a false channel, yet none of us 
will object to pay, even at the shrine of the 
“ Three Kings,” the tax of a few shillings to 
be appropriated to the preservation—would 
that I could say completion—of this magni¬ 
ficent cathedral. 

Had I not read the assertion in Don Juan, 
I should, perhaps, have passed through Co¬ 
logne without knowing that it 

“ presents to the inspector 
“ Eleven thousand maidenheads of bone.” 

Byron, however,—for Protestants often give 
us information on the subject of miracles and 
relics which they, nevertheless, assert that 
Catholics are bound to study with religious 
veneration—Byron told me what I was to ex¬ 
pect ; and I was interested by the sight of an 
old painting on wood, which shewed innume- 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 211 

rable heads of fair young ladies rising one 
above the other, much in the order in which 
cannon balls are piled in a military arsenal. 
As St, Ursula and her eleven thousand virgins 
often call forth the smile or the sneer of those 
professedly-ignorant of Catholic legends—I 
have taken the trouble to refer to Butler’s “Lives 
“ of the Saints,” in order to learn the real opi¬ 
nion of Catholics on this disputed subject. It 
there appears that (excepting the assertion 
that when, in the fifth age, the Pagan Saxons 
laid waste our island, and several of the old 
British inhabitants fled into Gaul and settled 
in Armorica, since called, from them, Little 
Britain ; and when others took shelter in the 
Netherlands and formed settlements near the 
mouth of the Rhine—St. Ursula with some 
female companions left Britain, and met death 
in defence of their virginity, from the army 
of the Huns) excepting this assertion, it 
seems that great obscurity avowedly hangs 
over the whole legend: for Butler continues 
to say in a note —“ it appears by the tombs of 
“ these martyrs at Cologne, that their number 
" was very great. Wandelbert, a monk near 




212 TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 

44 Pruin, in Ardenne, in a private Marty ro- 
44 logy which he compiled in verse in 850, 
44 makes their number amount to thousands ; 
44 but he had seen their false acts. Sigebert, 
44 in 1111, makes them eleven thousand. 
44 Some think this a mistake arising from the 
44 abbreviation XI. MV. for eleven martyrs 
44 and virgins : for the Chronicle of St. Tron’s 
44 seems to count eleven companions. The 
44 Roman Martyrology mentions only St. 
44 Ursula and her companions; nor is their 
44 number determined in any authentic records. 
44 As to the fancy that Undecimilla might 
44 have been the name of one of these virgins 
44 (see Valesiana), it is destitute of all shadow 
44 of the least foundation, and is exploded by 
44 all critics.” 

But, be all this as it may, public report 
has fixed their number at eleven thousand, 

and eleven thousand they must remain. 

/ 

HOLLAND. 

Below Cologne, the rocky banks of the 
Rhine rise no more in pleasing grandeur \ and 






r TIIANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 21 3 

as vve pass the regular town of Dusseldorf and 
advance into Holland, our view is bounded by 
the green rushes that grow on the marshy 
borders of the river. But here the expanse 
of waters arouses almost grander sensations 
than where they are compressed by the high, 
sullen, vine-dotted rocks from Coblentz to the 
peaks of Drachenfels. To make this senti¬ 
ment intelligible, I must have recourse to the 
expression I used when I first beheld the 
river at the bridge of Kehl:—the stream 
here seems to lord it more completely over 
the surrounding country. 

Our only insight towards the interior was 
along the canals which branched in every 
direction from the Waahl on which we now 
sailed—having exchanged our German 
^ Dampschiff” fora Dutch “ Stoomboot” 
A triangular promontory raised its low head 
barely above the lake, formed at a point where 
the stream branched off into two immense 
arms, if I may so call them, of water. On 
the point of this muddy extrusion , rose a 
village, of which the principal building touch- 




214 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


ing the almost dead water’s edge, announced 
itself as the “ Hotel de Bellevue” 


HAITI. 

A native of Haiti was on board. He 
assured me that the interior of his country 
now enjoyed perfect tranquillity. “ But,’’ I 
said, “has not a party lately endeavoured to 
“ assassinate the President Boyer?” * Ah, 
‘ oui; c'etait an malheureux quefai manque 

* moi~meme 9 il y a quelques mois , d*un coup 

* de fusil —-Oh yes; it was headed by a wretch 

* whom I myself should have killed, some 

* months since, had I not missed my aim.’ 
A proof this of the tranquillity of the coun¬ 
try! But what principles have reduced it to 
such a state ? 


ANTWERP. 


After sleeping at Rotterdam, I embarked 
again on a steam-packet, and coasting through 








TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


215 


the shallow seas and the low lands amongst 
which rises the town of Bergopzoom, I 
ascended the Schelt to the beautiful town of 
Antwerp. As we landed, the bells were 
ringing joyfuily in the elegant and much- 
admired steeple : but I have often looked with 
greater admiration over my paternal Lincoln¬ 
shire “ fens” to the more graceful summit of 
Boston “ stump.” 

At the table cFholes, a party of Frenchmen 
were speaking of a young French married 
woman, the mother of two children and 
enceinte with a third, who had, that morning, 
for no assignable cause, loaded a gun and 
blown out her own brains in the presence of 
her two children. One of the company ob¬ 
served that she had “ montree du caractere 
“ —shown spirit :” another thought that 
there was “ quelque chose de dur —something 
“ harsh—in having done the deed in presence 
“ of her children.” No more was said on 
the subject. 

I left Antwerp at ten o’clock at night. 
Brussels, Mons, Valenciennes, Paris, and 
Havre, did not detain me many days : five 


QlG 


TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 


months after I had first quitted Paris, my eyes 
rested on the beautiful hills of the Isle of 
Wight—than which I had seen nothing on 
my tour more pleasing. 


CONCLUSION. 

As I exclaimed on first beholding the 
Danube at Ulm—I may now consider myself 
an European traveller, or, perhaps, an Euro¬ 
pean citizen. England is the country in 
which I have passed the smallest portion of 
my life :—but yet I look with pride and satis¬ 
faction upon my claims on that country. 
When I myself left England, I was too young 
to feel the spirit of nationality ; whereas the 
greater number of those who visit the conti¬ 
nent, either behold it with minds prejudiced 
by education, or else, their stay being short, 
the novelty of the scenes amongst which they 
are cast withdraws their attention from the 
consideration of those points in which coun¬ 
tries do really differ. Liberation from the 
thraldom of natural prejudices is generally 



TRANSRIIENANE MEMOIRS. 217 

looked upon as the most rational object of 
foreign travel; and, after many years passed 
in the investigation of the principal countries 
of Europe, it may, perhaps, cause surprise to 
hear me declare that I have come to a totally 
different conclusion :—I believe all national 
prejudices to be founded in justice. Circum¬ 
stances being unaltered, no violent revolution 
having occurred to change the character of a 
people,—I believe those opinions which the 
experience of ages has prompted nations to 
conceive of one another, to convey a tolerably 
just estimate of each. After what I have 
previously said, it is unnecessary that I should 
further declare to which I give the preference: 

“ Chaquunpris dans son air est agreable en soi” 

Five months ago, I wrote the first of these 
pages at Metz. In the succeeding chapters 
I have followed the plan I then formed. At 
that time, I said, “ When I shall have com- 
“ pleted my tour, I will read over the senti- 
“ ments to which it will have given rise, and 
«should I think my notes worthy of the 
“ perusal of the public, to the public will I 

Q 



218 TRANSRHENANE MEMOIRS. 

“ submit them.” Let the public now deter¬ 
mine whether or not I have acted right: but 
let it also remember the spirit in which I 
wrote the first chapter, and my original decla¬ 
ration of my purpose and my hopes— 

* -“ while idleness weaves 

“ Her flow’rets together, if Wisdom ean see 
“ One bright drop or two that has fallen on the 
leaves 

“ From her fountain divine, ’tis sufficient for me." 


THE END. 




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